


Two Kinds the Same

by bayzee



Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Canon Universe, Conspiracy, Espionage, Interspecies Relationship(s), Military Training, Multi, Science Fiction, Turians, space travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:07:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 54,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27126286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bayzee/pseuds/bayzee
Summary: The year is 2182. In an attempt to expand its influence and take its fair share in galactic politics the Systems Alliance houses a training course as part of the Citadel's Interspecies Exchange Programme. But the weeks of the programme hold more than what the young turian soldier expected, when she finds unforeseen rejoice in the company of a not so much of the same kind of human.
Relationships: Original Male Human Character(s)/Original Female Turian Character(s)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 15
Collections: A Nod to the Original Characters, Beyond First Contact: Humans and Turians, Female Alphas, Female Characters Deserve Better, Interspecies





	1. First Impression

**Author's Note:**

> The story starts in late 2182, right before the events of Mass Effect 1. The Systems Alliance is struggling to take its fair share in galactic politics and strengthen their positions at the Citadel. The Alliance decides to house one of the first instances of the Citadel's Interspecies Exchange Programme, in an attempt to further improve relations with the galactic government. But the programme turns out to improve other relations as well, as the young female turian soldier finds unlikely rejoice in the company of a not so much of the same kind human, while the gears of a sinister machine are slowly turning to stir the galaxy closer to its fate... just like every 50 000 years.
> 
> The main idea behind the story was to explore the numerous aspects of how a relationship could form and develop between a human and an extraterrestrial alien despite the several physical and social differences, and what burdens should they face or overcome to preserve such relationship - if it is possible at all? Two Kinds the Same is an adventurous field trip and study for above topic, and hereby I invite the reader to partake in this journey!
> 
> The story follows Mass Effect canon and features a series of canon and original characters.
> 
> While 'Two Kinds the Same' stands in its own right, it is also a tribute to another artist's piece of work; thus contains details, intertwines and tie-ins to its root of inspiration: 'A Matter of Race and Character' from the pen of the exceptional writer Xeno-Sapian. It is highly recommended to read his story for the complete picture and unforgettable experience.
> 
> For related artwork, find my gallery at DeviantArt under screen-name "bayzee".
> 
> Enjoy!

**Two Kinds the Same**

**Chapter I.**

**First Impression**

**_Maverick Pub, Milgrom, Bekenstein [Boltzmann System – Serpent Nebula] – 14:45 LT – 2182.11.07 CE_ **

The young, smartly clad man had been tampering with the classic looking cork-coaster for several minutes by now. Rolling and folding it between his fingers while enjoying the fresh air he missed so much in London, he wondered if it was made of cork at all…

“… Well, my wife  _ is _ a curious woman, but tell me one that’s not! She knows how far she can go though. And frankly I am quite happy ‘bout that. If she was too nosy, might earn her – and myself – some serious headache.” the elder man sitting at the other side of the small round table said jovially.

“You know that it doesn’t sound reassuring, right?” Kevin shot an eyebrow up with a lopsided smile. “I want to be confident that our business stays between us. And Liz should be the last person to worry about, not the first!”

“Yes, of course. I know. I am just… joking. She won’t be a problem, nor anyone else. I strictly keep my job to myself. All the connections behind the shipping data and contact details are either stored on my private remote servers or sealed away offline; only I have access to them. I would never reveal my clients identity for nothing! ” he noticeably changed to a more serious tone, leaning in closer, propping himself on his elbows against the table. “If you want to stay on the surface on Bekenstein, you got to have your guards up all the time. There is plenty of competition who would happily take your place any minute; and if you’re not watching your back, you’re going down in a blink of an eye, Kevin. I learnt the lesson a long ago” the man stared at Kevin with an empty look while nodding repeatedly as if he had just realized that he’d discovered some profound truth.

“I am feeling lucky that I am working with a professional, Jamal” he smiled confidently “You know: who plays safe, and is well prepared.”

“Yes, you got to be good at what you are doing, or get wasted. That’s what I always lived by.”

“Yet, our business seems to be in contradiction with what you’ve just said.”

“Ohh, Kevin,” he rattled, clearing his throat “both of us have to make a living, haven’t we? I promised you would get some details on the volumes and destinations of the cargo, but that’s all. You can’t expect me giving away my clients!” 

“Yeah, that is true. If you do not offer, it is definitely not something I would ask for. That would be inappropriate and definitely unethical. However to be honest it would be of true value to me.” 

Kevin started to run his fingers along the rim of his glass in circles, addressing it with his dedicated attention, while speaking to Jamal “But I am glad that at least your game is playing out well. With the Systems Alliance running for strengthening its reputation, it is a smaller kind of miracle that you manage to stay off the radar – the fortunate man I am. If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t even have this small info to get on with…” he shot his eyes up at him “For our fruitful business relationship! Cheers!” he said raising his glass of wine.

Kingsley reluctantly raised his mug of beer to clink their glasses. Now that they faced each other again, he could see the changes on his partner’s expression: the signs of unrest sat out on it; the effect, which he dearly expected from his former words.

“Ah, yeah. Cheers.” he said blinking a few times, waking from his absence and trying to assume a relaxed pose again with less success “Now, it is true I have not much to complain about; the ships are running, there are some orders placed…”

Kevin felt there was more to Jamal’s recap over how well it was going for him.

“Though, you cannot be cautious enough when the authorities are breathing down your neck… Two weeks ago I got one of my shuttles caught at a checkpoint. Good thing it was a forerunner, but still got it shut down by Alliance for a missing signature from the service logs! I can’t even remember the last time I heard about such a thing! I thought they didn’t even look at those logs! A few days later another shuttle was pulled over and torn up to the last screw! Then this week one of my pilots did not log in for his shift. I assumed the lazy idiot was sleeping in, but turned out soon that he was arrested two days earlier when he was doing a private shipment. The authorities have already been calling me for interview. If they spoil my game, I might lose a lot. Damn, would be nice to say that we can keep doing our business, Kevin, but to deliver with no interference, I could really use some ease… or rather, some leverage.” 

_ Finally.  _

Jamal Kingsley was just one of the hundreds of thousands of swindling businessmen on Bekenstein, aspiring to belong to the upper ten thousand. But he had something that Kevin needed, and he felt he’d worth the effort. This was the fifth time he met the stumpy, red face, sparse hair man, and he could always tell by the fine material that he was wearing some high brand suit – the same one each time. He knew how to insinuate himself into his favour: letting him talk, paying attention, showing interest about whatever he talks of, and show him  _ respect _ , as if he was already one of those white collar criminals who already washed themselves clean under the shower of their credits. But sympathy was not everything, he needed a grip, something he could get a hold of, and now, he didn’t have to wait any longer.

“What do you mean, my friend?”

“The last time we spoke you said… you had some friends with the Alliance at that…”

“Charity cocktail party” he put in.

“…Yes!”

“The cocktails were crap.”

“Yes… well, you...”

“And the caviar tasted like tainted Salarian-eggs. Or so do I imagine.” he mused furrowing his brow, while gazing in the distance behind Kingsley’s back.

Kingsley halted for a moment with a fleeting wince across his face, probably picturing what he had just heard, then shook his head slightly and continued with renewed resolve:

“Erm, so you mentioned that the Alliance was going down hard on any skimming happening to the transportation of goods to the Citadel from Bekenstein. And as you know, I’m trying to hold a reasonable profit here with a few tricks, which involuntarily contradicts Alliance trade regulations… Despite my best efforts.” he added reluctantly. “But, you suggested that the Alliance might not necessarily be a problem…” Kevin’s eyes snapped back at Jamal’s face with a firm nod. “And if I ever needed some heads up…”

“And I didn’t forget about it. Just what friends are for, hm? I thought you might appreciate it the next time we meet, so…” Kevin slipped his left hand into his packet and placed a little cubical device in the middle of the table, while his eyes quickly wandered around the terrace of the bar. “… pulled some strings.” he allowed himself a smirk.

Kingsley’s eyes widened as he regarded the little box shaped plastic between his glass of beer and Kevin’s already empty plate.

“Oh… I don’t know what to say. Is it…?”

“Yes, as I referred to it, there is some serious political pressure on the Alliance to get its supervisory status right and effective over the colonies’ markets. They figured in the past few years enormous amounts of tax went down the sinkhole. Analysts joke it’s rather a black hole, and from the supermassive kind that the Alliance should patch up now, if they don’t want to spiral down into bankruptcy. This is a time when humanity needs all the resources to gain a firm stance before the Council. Humanity mustn’t be perceived as weak. So, they won’t be joking with this.”

Some silence settled in as Kevin gave a lingering look of confidentiality at Jamal, who seemed to consider the situation duly.

“Well, that is what the top dogs are saying! But it wasn’t the good old human government if everything worked out as planned. So here’s the deal: Alliance is shutting down any black or grey market channels, unless some personal interest occurs on a high enough level of course. And believe me the blues will hang up their fine golden braid unis, too someday. And they are as keen on saving for the twilight years as you and I.” giving it a second thought his words suddenly sounded utmost ridiculous to himself; he was slightly older than 26. Involuntarily recalling how he let his sparse beard grow for the last few days to look just a wee bit older today, didn’t help either. Choking on his chuckle, he let out a confident laugh to ease up a bit; however Jamal seemed to be more concerned about what Kevin was about to say than getting snagged on his logical lapse. “I shouldn’t be telling anything new by saying this place is hardly run by the Alliance. If the tycoons upstairs don’t see their good share, Alliance will have to wage a bureaucratic cold war against Bekenstein to bring their reign down. And that would also mean bringing down the closest and richest human colony right in the neighbourhood of the galactic  _ honey pot _ … And anyone messing up such a strong business channel to the Citadel now would be thought outright crazy. So what’s happening now? Figureheads get their numbers back on Earth in the form of long reports of arrests and judicial resolutions on shutting down some petty, negligible dirty businesses on Bekenstein big time! They get happy as they can make the media happy, which makes the people happily electing the happy politicians happily patting the shoulders of the happy Alliance brass; which makes Bekenstein happy, and eventually us; as long as you don’t belong to those… going down for the sake of the show.”

Kevin let his words settle well in Kingsley’s mind to realize how much trouble was coming his way. This balmy sunny afternoon surely felt a lot more overcast for him now. It didn’t keep Kevin from enjoying the exotic whistles and tweets of the avian creatures in the forest below the terrace, while seeing all the giveaway signs of anxiety on his partner.  _ The wrinkles on Jamal’s forehead definitely seemed more intense in these lights. And isn’t he scratching his thumb while gripping that mug so nervously? Oh not a lip-bite, please! _

Finally he leant forward and continued, lowering his voice, while pushing the little device closer to Kingsley “This is an NFC drive. I couldn’t risk anything found on my omni-tool in case of security checks. Well it’s nothing incriminating – not, as long as you don’t know what it is, so you should download its contents,  _ now _ … I can’t give you the chip” he added firmly.

Kingsley reacted with a short lag as if he was still pondering about the forthcoming Alliance measures. His omni-tool flashed up as he placed his right wrist above the device, pressing a few buttons on the interface. ‘ _ DOWNLOAD COMPETE’  _ the holographic screen flickered out.  _ Got you! _

“The Alliance wants coordinated busts with significant force for an extended period. They are not risking any mercenaries interfering or causing trouble during the investigations. These are the lists of times, locations and key aspects based on which the checks are going to be made. You want to avoid them, get clean during the areal busts, and you definitely don’t want to pass it on. Remember, some must go down for some going up. If you are playing hero, the Alliance might get suspicious and it’s a matter of time until someone turns you in; and I won’t be able to help you again… Oh and if I were you, I would start getting the shuttles’ papers right no later than today – if you take a look at the closest date on the list. It would be a shame to slip on that.”

First startled at the imminent threat, he finally let out a mumbled “Right,” frowning “How could I thank…”

Kevin sat back slowly leering his partner’s face with anticipation, then glanced down at the NFC chip that he left on the table. He had to force the sly smile off his face.

“You…oooh, you want the client records.” Jamal looked up at him bewildered. A few minutes ago he wouldn’t have guessed he would consider disclosing his records just within the frame of a few minutes!

Kevin made an emphatic and slow nod as he briefly flared his hands with agreement “You are doing shipping, I am doing marketing. I put you ahead of your competition, how can you put me ahead of mine?”

Kingsley was shifting in his seat uncomfortably and quickly casted his eyes to the side in frustration. Kevin could almost hear the creaking gears as Jamal’s brain was struggling towards a favourable solution. He took a sip of his wine.

“All right. I guess I don’t have a choice.”

“You always have a choice.”

“Heh!” Jamal snorted cynically. “I don’t have the records on me now. I have to get them…”

“No pressure, Jamal. You said that you had them on remote servers. Though I wonder how you reach them when you are away.”

Kevin pondered casually while watching his partner mulling over his next reply. 

“Well, I have the most recent ones that I’m working with. I can reach them over the extranet through secure tunnels, but I set read only rights on the files even for myself so copies are troublesome to make. I mean, there is lots of data there to take screenshots.”

“Show me the records between 28 October and today, please.” he asked, and Jamal resignedly fired up his omni-tool to connect to his severs. Kevin reached out for the NFC chip and slid it back into his pocket. He was slightly surprised how long it took for Kingsley to log in to his archives. It didn’t seem practical; although he mused if it was the result of using several layers of encryption, with the software executed manually, or simply the lack of computing skills. Inside his head he put a bet on the latter. “And Jamal, I will come for the rest of the files dating back to January 2180 in two weeks.”

Kingsley noted his reminder with a nod, and held out his hand with the list of files for Kevin to see.  _ Damn, that’s truly a huge pile of data.  _ Kevin furrowed his brows as scrolled through the databank systematically. His lips stirred occasionally as he read the entries from the screen. Kingsley was tapping his finger impatiently – he definitely felt inconvenient to have someone else messing with his omni-tool. However it was more likely Kingsley’s conspicuously nervous demeanour that attracted a few prying looks, instead of Kevin’s trifling with the other man’s device. 

Within a further minute Jamal’s embarrassment was finally over as Kevin leant back with a firm sigh. “That  _ is _ really a lot of info!”

“I told you.” 

“Well, thank you, Jamal! Unfortunately, I found nothing just yet that I could use right now,  _ but _ I definitely need these records  _ unfiltered _ and  _ unaltered _ .” he emphasized with a stern look in the eyes “If I run into some fiasco because the data I’m going to grab from you in two weeks will have been altered…”

“There will be no problems Kevin, we have made a deal. You help me, I help you.”

“I’m just feeling lucky that I’m working with a professional” he smiled reassuringly as he swigged the remaining wine from the bottom of his glass. 

Kevin insisted to pay the check and offered Jamal to leave freely as he was still staying to enjoy the sight, given the short periods of time he spent in this mock  _ Garden of Eden _ . 

The Maverick Pub was intentionally decorated to recall the romantic image of tropical seashores of the Caribbean on Earth, quite contradictorily on an artificial elevation on the side of the city, far above the treeline. Nonetheless the view was amazing; lush forests expanding till the plateaus of the horizon, breathing clouds of mist; streaks of the sun piercing through them casting slowly shifting shadows on the foliage. A rare sight on Earth, if there is still such a thing. The massive city of Milgrom laid in the opposing direction, carefully hidden from the eyes by the palm trees and rustic wooden wall design elements of the bar. 

When Kingsley had been off-sight for a couple of minutes, Kevin finally stood from the table, yanking on his suit as he regarded his surroundings. He nodded at the waiter, pointing at the credit chit he placed on the table by the slip then he strode into the restroom.  _ It almost felt like being at home  _ he thought. He hardly saw any aliens in Milgrom apart from the spaceport and the central market that he paid a brief visit the first time he was on Bekenstein. Even then he felt a bit like a village boy in a metropolis; he rather just lingered around, amazed of the immense structures and the vivid, whirling crowd of people mixed with some aliens. But with a sudden change of thoughts he was more interested in getting to the tap and flush his face with some water.  _ It was a pain in the ass, but he’s done it. _ He looked into the mirror and addressed his reflection coquettishly “You were good, man! You’ve made it!”. Cupping his face he soaked the water up off his skin with a towel, when another face appeared in the mirror, glancing at him, throwing a flat compliment “Congratulations.” and leaving the room after a swift hand wash.

By the time the door of the cubicle the man emerged from behind closed, Kevin was finally alone  _ again _ with his smile frozen on his face. He decided it was high time to leave. He quickly made sure that no one else was staying in the restroom, then locked himself in one of the cubicles and held the NFC drive in one hand. With a faint electric whizz his omni-tool’s holographic interface manifested around his right forearm, illuminating his face with its orange light. The next moment the little chip was levitating as if it was magnetically held in position before the omni-tool’s virtual fabricator pikes, but of course, it was merely a mass effect field; in a few seconds the fabricator emitted a prompt bolt of light arching between the omni-tool and the chip, and the latter was no longer but smoke and ash. After grabbing the chance of relieving himself, during his leave he gave a final, closer look at his eyes in the mirror that seemed doubtlessly red now, but didn’t bother.

On his way out from the Maverick he fixed his eyes on the man with a characteristic moustache who had been sitting at the third table behind Kingsley the whole time with a laptop. He realized that now the haptic interface of the device was turned on, while the man was sipping his coffee peacefully, watching some kind of movie on the screen; he shivered.  _ Oh great; I’ve got company. _

Kevin hesitated promptly, then immediately realized he should have better moved on as if nothing had happened. This quick thought resulted in a jerky lag before he set out on his way towards the exit at the far end of the terrace. He hoped his hitch would not give his awareness away.  _ The sign was unmistakable; h _ is mind was racing if staying any longer in an attempt to spot anybody watching him would be worth it, but he already reached the door.  _ No point doing that; the place is having its peak hour, no chance taking out any stalkers in such a crowd.  _ In a vain attempt he ran his glance over the hoard of patrons.

Taking a sharp turn at the gate he headed in the direction of the vast Nephilim Park stretching a few levels above where he was now. The shortest way led across the wide street behind the bar, and up the stairs on the side of what looked like a huge and long embankment spiralling along the southern boundary of the city. Its true function was a mystery to Kevin, but it was almost certain that the structure provided static solidity to the mega-complex built upon and around it, rather than protecting against flood.

The cacophony of the terrace was gradually giving place to the soothing rustle of local, nevertheless still pretty exotic looking trees and bushes planted and hedged in the style of a French formal garden as Kevin padded up the stairs; although his mind was way too occupied to enjoy the sight. He did not hurry; at each turn he let his eyes leisurely wander out to the vista of the horizon covered in silky mist – and also, to the street down below for brief seconds, bouncing from face to face as fast as possible. He could feel his heartbeat becoming faster, which paired with his frustration over realizing his mistake of staying too long in the restroom, probably giving enough time for assuming good positions to whoever was tailing him. Given such a blatant head start, of course nobody was careless enough to rush up right behind him and to be honest, nor were they in the need of doing so.

Kevin fired up his omni-tool casually, dialling “Honey” from his contact list. While establishing connection, he picked a sympathetic bench in the shades of a shape-trimmed tree with yellowish trunk and branches, which delicately bent upwards more or less like acacias of the savannahs back on Earth, forming an umbrella-like shroud above him.

“Hello?” a calm female voice answered.

“Hey honey!” he exclaimed with such a broad grin it was probably picked up by geographical satellites, too.

“I was afraid you would never call.” the woman said in an obviously feinted reckoning manner.

“Heh, yah, I’m sure you were” he muttered “Look hun, you remember I promised to check those amazing… eeeer  _ earmuffs _ you’ve dreamed of!

“Ohhh! Yes?” she said with an undisguised giggle.

“And guess what, I was too busy to see them just yet, however I would feel guilty if I went home without them.”

“Aw, you have always been such a gentleman!” she laughed.

“Yah, that’s me. I’m planning to go to the Central Market in the evening around 7:00 pm.” he said forming the words as clearly as possible “And once I’m there, I’d also check some other things worth to grab for the  _ birthday party _ … Bekenstein produces some really exclusive beverages I heard of. I got to dig them up, so I might stay an extra day at the hotel maybe?”

“…Of course Kevin. Stay as long as you need” she sounded more serious than she probably wanted, because in the next moment her voice was back to her previous jingly tone “I… I make the preparations in the meantime. My brother just can’t wait to come!... Yeah.

“Hope everything is okay on your end. Any news about grandpa?”

“He’s still fishing; no catches. I’ll let you know if there is something.”

“Okay” he nodded a few times as if he was sinking into some deep thoughts, while patting his fingers in row on the streamlined back of the bench “Tell the old fart the drinks are on him once I’m back home.” Kevin said quite assertively, which found the female somewhat off-guard as she giggled self-consciously in return “Well, take care.”

“Hang on!...” she called out and Kevin halted his move towards the dismiss button; then she continued shortly “Is the  _ weather _ nice?” this time there was a definite concern in her voice.

“Yeah, yeah pretty much, no worries! It’s charming” he answered, but only the expecting silence of a faint breath came back through the line “Sarah, it’s  _ all _ right; just like at home! Only sunnier.” he added as he made sure his voice was doubtlessly assuring and confident this time.

“…All right!” came the short reply “I don’t want you get sunburns, stay in the shadows!”

“Jahvol, my lady! See you soon!”

“See ya Kevin!” the woman concluded the conversation and hung up in a few seconds.

“Love you…”

_ And there you go, loser.  _ He looked up.

Kevin hardly suppressed the smirk in the corner of his mouth as he glanced at the man sitting on the bench in front of him, who glimpsed in the other direction immediately as their eyes met: seemingly doing nothing in particular apart from idling with his right foot tapping hectically on the fine gravels of the park’s pathway. Having the upper hand, Kevin leant back, taking a deep breath looking around the park, regarding the few people passing by just to shortly arrive at the man’s face again; in a moment he looked back at him. The fleeting few seconds told everything about the man’s frustration; his expression was like a beacon messaging his anger over his presumed failure of being noticed, and probably for being reckless; ground between blaming himself and his target for his embarrassing position.

Kevin knew the feeling. It wasn’t a situation that was inherently lost from the perspective of the surveillant, as long as he could control his behaviour; but the man completely lost it:  _ he was either barely experienced, or a total amateur. He might have been working for some crime lords, or maybe for Kingsley himself.  _ These thoughts ran over Kevin’s head as he lightly reached into his breast-pocket and put on his shades, which now covered his eyes entirely. That was the moment when the person opposite finally stood up and strode away at speed towards the middle of the park. Kevin followed suit in a comfortable pace, after all he was heading that way anyway.

In the middle of the roundabout, at the junction of the main pathways of the park stood the gigantic, silvery statue of the Nephilim. The biblical figure stood wings spread out, protectively providing shelter to an adult human female standing behind a teenage boy, who was holding a huge shield in one hand and a sword in the other firmly. Whenever walking this way, Kevin couldn’t pass it without musing on its meaning; thus it was an effective piece of art for sure – he thought. But this time he wasn’t gazing at the immense monument for the visual pleasure or to weave long philosophical thoughts; he was much rather interested in the fine-polished shield of the boy, which like an oversized traffic mirror, neatly reflected everything behind and around him. 

By the time he suddenly stopped in his tracks before the giant composition he has already counted eight persons coming behind him, and ruled out three of them who seemed to be a couple with their kid –assessing that they were unlikely being part of his  _ escort _ –. Now he quickly reviewed the remaining five from the mirror image, finding that one of them rashly slowed his speed from a light walk to a mere saunter. From that distance the man still hasn’t noticed how the reflection gave him away, and kept staring at his target from behind, but Kevin was already looking for a forerunner -  _ if they were doing it good _ .

He found his heartbeat returned to normal. The excitement was mild and finally his moves started to come from routine. He padded across the park, passing a little group of children playing with a varren. The beast was popular and wide spread across many worlds – they used it as trained “dogs”, for illegal fighting, hunting, military purposes and some even served it as delicacy; although its fashion was catching on slowly with humans. People still preferred their own Earth-bred dogs, and Kevin shared this thought that if he wanted to keep a dog, he would go with the original concept of the word. 

The next moment the varren opened its enormous mouth, flashing its menacing fangs as it energetically leaped at a small girl holding the retrieving ball. Kevin froze as a chilling shiver crept up his spine to the top of his head in the wake of the high pitched scream of the girl … just to see her the next second giggling while lying on her back as the varren was playfully licking her face.

_ Yeah... cute and fluffy things are the way to go; definitely; that or my heart.  _ He made the mental note as he sighed in relief.

Kevin eventually reached the entrance of the City-Train station. With a pre-paid weekly pass on his account his omni-tool merely flashed a light when he crossed the gate and strode to one end of the platform. It was not rush hour; however the City-Train still proved to be a popular way of travel in the afternoon at this part of the city. The crowd of passengers was swirling closer to the safety line glowing red along the side of the platform. The waking breeze, gradually growing into a fierce wind heralded the arrival of the train. The vehicle was electromagnetically hinged on a rail running above, yet it gained its stability from the mass effect field emitters glowing and sparkling blue on the underside of the wagons. The blinding white paint of the carts was in tune with the white and brushed steel interiors of the station, providing an utterly utopistic sight to the eye. Kevin felt it almost mesmerizing. The city spent fortunes on keeping the streets and public places clean, and definitely that money found its place.

The doors slid open and the glowing red line on the floor flashed three times before changing to blue; as if shackles were cut, the passengers whirled on board, taking seats. Kevin was demurely standing aside, letting everybody board the train until the Virtual Intelligence controlling the City-Train network warned to clear the closing doors. Kevin looked down the platform to see as three more people was hopping on in the last second and only one of them whiling hesitantly, throwing a doubtful glance in his direction. The line flashed three times and changed to red. The man looked around nonplussed and in the last second hopped on the train. Kevin stepped away from the doors and nonchalantly leant against one of the robust columns supporting the transparent roof above the lounge.  _ And that makes it three. _

* * *

**_Room 1916, Hotel Harrington, Milgrom, Bekenstein [Boltzmann System – Serpent Nebula] – 22:15 LT – 2182.11.07 CE_ **

Flowing green and blue lights were playing on the wall with the abstract forms of a painting hanging above the double bed. Half-open venetian blinds drew bars of confinement onto them with no avail. The low humming of the air conditioner and the faint resonance of the throbbing bass, coming from the roof of the hotel, which hosted an enormous party, established the background for Kevin’s thoughts as he ruminated over the day:

_ Soon after the train left without him, the second man he spotted earlier arrived at the platform. The man was still unaware that his cover was blown, and Kevin decided to leave him at his belief. He accommodatingly let the man follow, as he got on the next train and headed right back to the Harrington hotel where his room was. He had become pretty certain that one more guy belonged to the group, which was trying to track him down, and two other men about whom he was not entirely sure. However he established two important things: they were either too few in their numbers for the task, or they grew distinctly overconfident; Kevin could not find any other explanations why the two, already burnt guys returned, even if keeping a significant distance from then on. And secondly he finally knew most the crew working on him. This left him with minimal uncertainties that felt quite comforting on one hand, but with their motivation still unknown, he would have passed the treat gladly. _

_ When he arrived at the hotel he knew that two of the trackers came in after him, but he showed no sign of his awareness; instead he bespoke the receptionist aloud, like they were old friends and in a chatty manner revealed his schedule for the rest of the day: he was going to take a rest in his room, then visit Central Market for some business by 19:00 and return to see the rooftop party at night. “That is a brilliant choice Mr Bell! I would also recommend the Zero Hour programme just before the main event. It is going to be an imitational beach party on the wellness level at the pools.” Kevin acknowledged the suggestion with a thankful smile. ”And here you are, sir: Room 1910! If you need anything else, sir, just let me know.” the receptionist said as he imparted the key card to him. _

_ “Will do” and with that he strode to the elevator to reach his room as soon as possible. _

With his back against the comfortably adaptable mattress of the bed, he hugged his HK-made Kessler handgun closer to his chest as his index finger slowly grazed back and forth over the scraggy surface of the safety switch. He casted an eye sideways at the bedside table: his backpack was lying there with its mouth open. In the poor lighting he could still take out the silhouettes of the shiny metal framed glasses; as much as it was a sudden idea, he did not repent buying some local specialities at all; He even had the chance to taste some liquors and whiskeys, and well, they were intriguing to make him buy!

_ He spent plenty of time at the Central Market. It was amazing how many delicacies and luxury items were put on the show for the customers, who poured in from all around the galaxy. And well, considering his relatively short service record, most of which spent Earth-bound, Kevin did find their proximity rather… alien. He tried to grasp the sensation in an attempt to understand the unsettling feeling in him. What was this excitement about? Was it fear, angst or curiosity? Or all of these? He subconsciously kept his distance from them. He noticed that when his way led beside a group of asari strolling down one of the countless alleys in the Market, and a sudden wave of discomfort overwhelmed him for a brief moment when he realized that his legs would have rather taken him autonomously the longer way around, than passing too close to the little group of bluish skinned beings. He hated few things more than when his actions were determined by visceral reactions; felt like his life being hijacked by his own body – and he could not let that be! _

_ He passed them within the reach of an arm, regarding them with maybe more than what he hoped being a transient glimpse. He heard a lot about the asari, described as the most attractive species of the known Milky Way; and the most influential at that. The thought triggered his caution and shot his hairs on his arms straight up when one of them glanced back at him. The strange, streamlined, tentacle-like skin-folds on their skulls looked almost tolerable – one could have imagined them as props from an old Star Trek movie, applied on a human actress – but where the folds met their membrane-like ear canals, the different underlying structure of their head became obvious, and definitely unsettling; let alone their ridged backside of their neck. But what was new to him and lingered to haunt his thoughts, were the eyes of this asari his glimpse just met – before he quickly turned away: they were so deep, so familiar, yet so distant! He could see the well-known spark of intelligence at an odd contradiction with the subtle distinctness from the human look. The antithesis of which used to be possibly only one thing: animal.  _

_ Kevin wandered on with sojourning and conflicting feelings in the immense spaces of the Central Market, but the vivacious atmosphere of the place drew him in soon again. Given it was located in the city centre it was the face of all what Bekenstein had to offer. The main level was occupied by the most prominent companies and manufacturers, but the several storey building housed thousands of shops and stands for smaller ventures, too - located at higher or lower levels respectively. Intertwined with escalators and elevators, and with the cleverly lit massive concrete beams running across the structure gave the impression of a monumental glass hive from a distance, especially at night.  _

He wondered if those colourful lights on the wall were actually coming from the Central Market. As he turned his head the other direction, his vision was partly obscured by a tuft of dark, ruffled hair. Kevin winced and blew the stripe away from his nose.

The woman was lying still, eyes shut; her face was pale and her lips slightly apart with smeared rouge tracing down her chin and smudged in patches around her mouth. Kevin switched the safety lever and the light on the side of the Kessler consequently turned red. Sitting up and turning around on the bed he hooked his arms below her armpits and dragged the young woman’s body up onto the pillow and covered her figure with the thin blanket, when his omni-tool’s interface suddenly manifested around his arm, startling him for a moment. He looked at the flashing text “Detector Front Door: Intrusion Alert”.

_ As soon as he got back to his room he closed the shutters and dashed to his backpack in the wardrobe. He dug his finger between the seams along the side of the bottom padding and zipped it open. The hidden compartment was holding small black and transparent plastic boxes and wires; there were no scripts written on them except some simple engraved markings of their orientation and barely visible orifices on them. _

_ Kevin threw the contents of the bag on the double bed. His hands worked with haste, but trained efficiency. The small parts were soon assembled and placed around the room; time by time he stopped by the room’s haptic console to check on the door’s peep monitor.  _

_ He came with two bags. Actually one of them was a bigger luggage that now lay open at the side of his bed. He carefully slid his travel documents in its side pocket along with his company brochures and some Earth magazines. There was also his datapad that he casually dropped on the middle of the bed with the blanket wrinkled to the side. When everything was in place, he reached inside his other bag and detached a Hahne-Kedar handgun from its inside fastener. The Kessler was small in its compact form, and neatly fit in his grip. As he grabbed it though, the gun came alive and through the series of quickly shifting panels and components it assumed its real, larger form in his hand.  _

_ “Okay, let’s see: integrity – check, eezo – check, heat-sink – check, ammo – check!” _

_ He collapsed the Kessler and attached it back on the holster inside the bag. On his way out he dropped by the front desk and caught up with the concierge. “Ahm, excuse me, there would be a thing” Kevin drew him aside. _

_ “I do not want my room cleaned or any maintenance whatsoever until tomorrow evening”. _

_ “Sir, we have strict regulations due to the possible allergic reaction… of other… species” his voice petered out as Kevin continued. _

_ “I am sure, we can find a solution.” Kevin put in firmly, staring at the white haired man, who froze in his speech and shot a glance to the right, breaking the connection between their eyes. _

_ “Sir, if it was on Earth I might be able to bend the rules, but we are…” _

_ “Let’s pretend we are on Earth. I just need some extra privacy. And I am not lying together with asthmatic aliens or whatever. Promise. That blanket will be fine for one more day.” Kevin was not sure if his words were convincing enough, or if he could play around to eventually gain the man’s sympathy, but the generous tip he slid onto the table emphasised his words enough. The man took the credits… _

In the dark his finger ran over the safety lever again. A silent, rising-pitch hoot and the indicator light turning blue warned that the gun was armed. Sliding up against the wall, he pressed on the faintly glowing haptic interface of the peep camera to see it was clear outside. But in the very next moment the click and hiss of the pneumatic door came to his ears. His muscles stiffened, and the only thing he could hear was his own heartbeat. He swiftly turned around the corner, pointing the gun towards the door out of memory to gain time.

“We are in.” the stranger’s voice whispered in his ears.

“Damn it.” Kevin shook his head taking a deep breath as he realized the voices were coming through his omni-tool’s implanted vocal emulation module directly linked to the auditory nerves close to his ears. Uptight, he jumped back at the peep monitor to make absolutely sure the door was clear. Seeing no movement, he finally relaxed a little. He sauntered back to the bed, pushing the woman’s bare leg aside, and sat back on the edge of the mattress, listening to the voices. 

Within an hour the transmission went silent. There was nothing but static noise sizzling in his head. The detectors were all green, not picking up any movement for the last half an hour. He decidedly did not want to catch them in the act, so he kept the transmission live; he systematically collected his items from the room and rose the almost empty bottle of the fine Bekenstein Torchwood brandy to his mouth to take a last sip before putting it back in his pack.

“I’m sorry it had to end like this girl, but it’s my time to return to my residency” he pressed the words out between his teeth through a smirk. He yanked his shirt’s collar and looked down at the female body lying in a twisted pose without the slightest mark of grace on her disfigured expression. He shook his head as he turned around; his lowered voice was almost lost in the hiss of the closing door “Servus, my dear!”


	2. Close Encounters - Part I.

**Chapter II.**

**Close Encounters**

**Part I.**

Her eyes shot open. Faint green and blue lights were shifting on the wall, but her thoughts were still revolving around one thing...

“What a damn prat!” she peeked at the door with a weary groan. She clenched her fist and thumped on the plastic covered bulkhead beside her head, while shutting her eyes again in exasperation; the underlying metal wall answered with a muffled thud. She reluctantly turned to her other side, shifting uneasily, when a shooting pain stung into her lower back, stiffening all her muscles as she stifled a gasp.

“Ouch! Ouch, ouch...”

Not that she was finicky about it, but it always took her a couple of days to adapt to her actual doss whenever she slept at a new place. Considering her commission, that was not a rare thing. However, this time the mattress was doubtlessly uncomfortable. Being too occupied with her thoughts, she paid no further attention to her rigid limbs.  _ How could he think he would get rid of her so easily! …Again. However... one more night and this rack of torture would do the job for sure! _

Carefully rolling on her back, she stretched across the bed; her legs hanging off the far end of the mattress. The blanket folded and wrinkled inordinately as it hitched onto her sticking-out calf spurs when she pulled her feet back. The young turian woman lied like this, unmoving for a fleeting minute; enjoying the slightly cooler air of the cabin wafting under the blanket. The sensation felt refreshing, which was just the thing she needed to convince herself to get out and start the day.

* * *

**_Hierarchy Vessel ‘Arcadias’ [Utopia System – Exodus Cluster] – 05:25 GST – 2182.11.08 CE_ **

Zaalia left her cabin in ten minutes. Regardless of being relieved from duty until her unit’s departure, discipline ran thick in her blood: the morning on  _ Arcadias _ found her trimly kitted out in her working uniform’s grey and blue shaded splinter-pattern camouflage trousers and her teal T-shirt. As she padded down the corridor of the quarterdeck, she was just one in the whirling stream of crewmen strolling on the passageways to pick up their shifts or, alternately, to get a bite at the mess – which were exactly her sentiments. 

This was her third day on the cruiser, but she still had to pay attention not to get lost in the maze of hallways.  _ Arcadias _ was one of the oldest ships in the fleet, and of considerable size, serving the latest of her forty years under the Turian Engineering Corps – Zaalia could not recall the vessel’s early history, but the name got imprinted in her mind for sure; given her team leader’s notorious close combat skills allegedly acquired and honed to high standard while serving here with the Marines. Aside from its rigorous training, the starship provided a versatile platform for logistics, research programmes, and rescue missions, too. Today her patrol route crossed with that of an Alliance frigate; the  _ SSV Hong Kong _ was expected for a brief rendezvous with the turian vessel near the Mass Relay in the system at 08:30 GST, to take the visiting turian Spec Ops on board and ferry them back to Sol…  _ Damn. _

She got lost after all.

Backtracking to the last crossing she just bumped into two passing crewmen, wearing the silver and blue colours of the  _ Arcadias _ uniform.

“Excuse me!” she addressed the crewmen.

The two turians noticed her different outfit on the spot, which would have not been a necessary giveaway of being a stranger here, but the scripts on her shirt reading ‘Special Operations’, definitely were.

“Good morning!” the two males greeted her, stopping in their tracks. The familiar smell of the medical wing filled her nose.  _ One of them had definitely come from the sick bay, or... was a medic? _

“How do I get to the mess deck?... New here” she added somewhat redundantly.

“That’s easy. You see the elevator at the end of the corridor, right? You take the passage to the right, and go on until you face an information board at the end on the wall. Then just follow directions; it’s not far from there in fact.”

Using the short breathing space the other turian stepped in “So you are one of the Spec Ops… “

“Specialist Zaalia Gerumis” She nodded. 

“Engineer Winger,” he introduced himself cheerfully “nice to meet you!”

As it turned out, the other turian was an artificer called Granus. The pair seemed to be intrigued about her assignment.

“Word got around; we found it strange we were dropping you off to a human vessel”.

“Well, we are on training as part of the Interspecies Exchange Programme.”

“Yeah, but... in Sol? That’s the Alliance’s core system.” Winger said in excitement.

“They surely want to show off their best they’ve got” Granus put in “I wonder what they can tell you that you already don’t know. However humans had been using some really sophisticated VIs for combat, or so I heard. That could be interesting if they showed you any of that. I don’t know how that was affected by Citadel regulations though.”

“VIs are legal.” Winger uttered.

“Well, humanity’s R&D hadn’t really been streamlined to fit Citadel law before they showed up, and I’d bet the ship on they were going for true AI. Hell knows what’s left of that project!”

“Compensating for their lack of skill, you’d say?” Winger grinned, then turned back to Zaalia “Don’t let them spoil you, Spec!”

“Actually,  _ we _ are going to train  _ them _ .” she smiled. 

“Ah-ha!” they exclaimed in unison with an explicit nod. “Of course…”

“Anyways, we were heading for the mess, too. You tag along, Specialist Gerumis? If you’re not busy or...?”

Zaalia gladly accepted the invitation. She had been roaming the deck long enough for her team probably having finished their meal already. The little group strolled down the hallway together.

The mess deck was lively despite the early hour. One could easily tell by the faces, which crew members were just to chow something down quickly before their shift, and who were the ones about finishing their working hours.

“Gerumis!” a raspy voice called out to her while standing in the queue with a tray in her hands. She raised her head as her eyes wandered from the assortment of foods to the tall turian male arriving behind her. His blue eyes seemed to glitter from the dark sockets of his brownish face plates, with a pronounced scar crossing his brow fringe. That was his trademark.

“Sir?” she turned to him, while advancing a step forward in the queue, so she could put her tray on the rails by the cubicles.

He lifted his arm indicating his watch showing the Galactic Standard Time in turian numeric symbols “5:65. Third day, and getting rusty?” 

Artificer Granus and Engineer Winger cast a lopsided glance at the soldier, but didn’t interfere with the waking conversation between the two. 

“Just pried around a bit; wondered where you brought your twists and locks from.” she grinned at Pretonus; the team leader seemed utterly appreciative of what sounded like her honest interest in  _ Arcadias _ .

“And did you find any trace of it?” he cracked a cocky smile, and with a soft yet swift move he was already standing behind her, clenching her right arm in a twist. 

“Hey!” she yelled defiantly wriggling in his hold. “Actually...” a huff parted her lips “... yes, I did!”

“Oh? And who is it?” 

“Won’t tell, but...” she subtly shifted her shoulder joints to gain some space for her breakout “...told me to... try  _ this _ !” she suddenly dropped her weight and bolted her right leg behind his left with a spin of his waist. He didn’t resist, thus she didn’t need much effort either to eventually slip out of his grip, and point her finger up at his chin, imitating a gun.

“BANG!”

“You rely too much on your armature” he cast his eyes on her hand without moving his head “It’s quite intimidating though.” He smirked and locked eyes with her. This short moment was enough for him to grab her finger and initiate another joint lock and then quickly release her, when saw Zaalia catching a gasp while hastily bending to ease the unexpected tension. “Nice escape, though.”

Automatically pulling her hand back, she shot a cagy look at him, flaring her mandibles, grinning as he threw back his head with a friendly smile – neither of them picking up, or caring about the prying glances from the  _ Arcadias _ crew over the playful tussle.

“I am checking the good old sparring room. You with me?”

“I am! Just let me take a bite; I am starving.”

“Don’t take too long! The  _ SSV Hong Kong _ is ahead of schedule” the team leader exhorted as he left to join another young turian male from the team, who had just returned his tray. “Taren, make sure the equipment is packed and ready!“ he addressed the turian male briefly, while touching him on the shoulder. The private nodded in response then noticing her, waved at Zaalia before fleeing the mess hall.

Zaalia returned the gesture and hastily caught up with the queue as the two technicians were already probing for a free table. She picked louza –  _ you can’t go wrong with that _ – and stashed some sradis roots as side dish. She didn’t want to take something stodgy, but also considering their expected departure before lunchtime, she decidedly did not want to starve during the day either. Granus and Winger had been already sitting by a table with a turian woman that Zaalia guessed as being the same age or even younger than her.

“Hey!” she chirped.

“Hello!” Zaalia regarded her with a friendly look as she took a seat beside her. The two technicians were sitting opposite.

“Jorrin, this is Specialist Gerumis. She is with the Specs.” Winger pointed briefly at her.

“I’m Jorrin; artificer, just like Rusty: she said, glancing at Zaalia as jerked her thumb at Granus. “Well, good to have you on board, guys!”

“The feeling is mutual” Zaalia’s mandibles flared in a clownish smile.

“Well, sure thing this ship goes nowhere without us!” Winger put in.

“Is there much work around?”

“Quite a bit, to be honest,  _ Arcadias _ is on active duty; she has been for a while and it takes its toll. But, she has  _ heroes _ like us: we keep the old girl in shape as you can see” Winger spread his arms demonstratively. Zaalia automatically followed the move with her head as she regarded the hall. The place was clean and well-maintained, despite the unmistakable signs of wear on the furniture and the accumulated dust in certain hardly reachable corners and gaps on the bulkheads.

A cadet was standing by a vending machine impatiently. It contained desserts, fruits and other delicacies, which required refrigeration. He pushed on the buttons a few times; the console switched to green, but when he tried to open the hatch, it seemed stuck despite all the pressure he put in. His frustration only grew higher when his fellows started to play him up, offering their help for his lack of strength. He hit the sturdy open button once again ardently: 

“Damn it! Why  _ nothing _ works here?!”

The Specialist slowly turned back at Winger with a broad, cheeky smile.

“ _ That’s _ not my department!” he raised his hands defensively.

The very next moment a loud thud echoed through the bulkheads and the lights cut out. The casual jangle of the hall went to complete silence in an instant, when another clicking sound snapped in, and the lights flickered back to normal backed with the subtle up-tuning hoot of the restarting machinery in the room.

“I’ll take a look, though.” Granus said promptly and strode to the refrigerator at speed. “No, don’t even touch it!” he called out to the cadet, who was still pottering about the console, now somewhat bewildered.

While the artificer checked the vending machine for any evident troubles, the three at the table turned their attention to their food. The technicians were to reach their positions by 06:00 GST and the Spec Ops Team was looking ahead of an early take off, too, so neither of them had much time left to finish. 

Zaalia was slicing the fried louza into morsels, mouthing from the fork and chewing them reluctantly. She hoped the strong odour of the med bay lingering around the artificers would eventually be gone, but it came back to her whenever she inhaled or opened her mouth for a new bite. The whiff slurred through between her teeth and felt like sticking to her throat, spreading up pertinaciously via her pharynx to the nose.

“That will do it.” Granus took place again.

“What was it?” Winger asked.

“That tripe is having a short in the dispenser mechanism. I unplugged it, but remind me to lick a warning sticker on till it’s repaired.”

“I hope the drive core won’t shut down when I take my sweets from the cubicle.” Zaalia joshed “My team might need to be on the move any moment, you know”.

“No worries, Spec, you are not leaving for a couple of hours I bet my head on it.” Jorrin said casually with the fork still in her mouth.

“Yeah, take your time. We are already on orbital trajectory above Xanadu, in a few minutes we start descending for discharge. Once at the right altitude no way would the Captain interrupt the process for the sake of dispatching you.” when he saw Zaalia raising her brow fringe, he continued “It takes a wealth of fuel to do manoeuvres like that. Considering the size of Xanadu, it won’t take longer than two or three hours though. The Alliance guys will have to wait a bit”.

“Yeah, and us too.”

“I will personally monitor the Drive Core for your convenience. It will be done in a blink of an eye” Winger grinned, radiating confidence.”

“Charming!” Jorrin japed. 

“I’m not sure if I should be happy, or anxious?” Zaalia added, jabbing her thumb at the faulty fridge. “I need to prepare a neat story for the humans why Arcadias was drifting with flickering lights when they arrived. Like: ‘ _ there was a crazy party on board!’” _

“You’re not funny” the turian replied with feigned pique.

“I’m sorry, Engineer” she grinned mischievously, while Jorrin and Granus enjoyed the banter.

“So how did you end up in this interspecies training programme? Granus interposed.

Zaalia considered the question duly; as if this was the first time somebody asked her about it, and more oddly, she was surprised she didn’t have a pre-prepared answer to hand.

“Well…” she started with a dilated breath preceding her next sentence “It wasn’t really my choice...” in fact though, it was. “The Council urges interspecies programmes with the humans. They want them to fit in the galactic bloodstream, I guess. The brass must comply with the directives and engage in these trainings. So one day we got the offer and we are here.”

“Offer? You said it was not your choice to partake.”

“Well, it was our detachment given the offer. Our squad leader accepted it and assembled our team to sketch out and deliver the training for the human counterpart. You don’t reject such offers.”

Zaalia was about being promoted to Corporal before she signed up for this mission. She was backed by her team leader, the platoon leader and also got positive feedback from the 17 th Battalion’s Commander. There was only one person raising objections: Captain Merunn. _ Her grip stiffened on the fork just at the thought of it.  _ There were three platoons under his command; one of them was the Special Operations Detachment. Captain Merunn established the unit; as a former Spec Op, his name was the guarantee for a group excelling in proficiency, effectiveness, discipline, and last but not least: delivering results. Maybe it was his fond image of the detachment that he feared for when almost a year ago Zaalia handed in her request for transferring to Blackwatch; he rejected her request and held her back for an additional year, and since that she felt like the Commander was deliberately pushing her into training missions like this in the distant corners of the galaxy, instead of letting her doing drills with the unit. In the eyes of the operators such errands counted either as ‘reward tours’ or ‘inconveniences’, depending on how much one had to be involved in the organization and execution of the programmes. And somehow her name was always on the list among the first ones, and to rule out any misconceptions, Pretonus let her know several times that he got some suggestions directly from Captain Merunn on certain persons to select… 

She reconciled herself to doing a few of these assignments, but her frustration was taking over seeing that he just continued to keep her under control. For a matter of fact though, the captain did not actually pose a concrete objection,  _ only _ held up her admission for revision, still, basically tripping her promotion in the process, and she had no real clue why. Was her transfer request such a splinter in his eye? She also had an alternate answer for that question, which came with a feeling of growing apprehension:  _ can it be her medical check-up results?… _

“Ah, I see” Winger nodded “And what are your sentiments on your assignment? From what you said I’m not sure you are thrilled.”

“Oh? No, actually I like the idea!” she reneged, however, her company didn’t seem convinced by her words “I really think these programmes are useful.” she continued, seriously considering her words “It is beneficial to see other species’ tactics and behaviour in combat. Seeing someone in fight tells so much about them; how you can rely on them, their assumable strengths and weaknesses. And you can learn a lot of unique details about how and why they operate the way they do, which might be hard or almost impossible to notice in a real situation.”

“So if we ever need to fight again, we’ll know where to kick them” Granus suggested, not entirely sure if that’s where she was going.

“That’s not the point. Although I don’t know many examples where we deployed joint forces with the humans, but if we ever end up like that, it’s going to be paramount to know what to expect from them. And it wouldn’t be bad either, if they knew a thing or two about how we roll; so there would be no distractions and misinterpretations. Anything like that impedes team efficiency; thus can tip the scales in a life-or-death moment, you know.” She lowered her right mandible for a subtle smile, before she started to sound too vocational.

But Winger already seemed more interested in the human substance of the formula, rather than the technicalities: “Have you trained with Alliance before? I heard humans weren’t predictable or reliable, and also, a bit temperamental. They say their moody outbreaks must be because of their strict military doctrines. How they keep order like that is far beyond me!”

“Well, I have trained only with salarians, asari; even seen some krogan action up-close… and once I had the chance to meet a batarian instructor. He wasn’t all charm, but he wasn’t paid for his glamour anyway. No humans so far though.” she confessed. Zaalia just realized she was so self-absorbed that she hadn’t been thinking about the humans at all, but Winger’s words now evoked some tension in her.

“Hah!” Winger cracked up “Just make sure you are on your toes, Gerumis, in case one of them accidentally loses their mind and goes all berserk on you!” then he changed his tone to a bit more confidential one “Word is they really took the Relay 314 incident to the heart. Come on, they still call it a ‘war’. And I’m also sure not many turians wandered their home world in the meantime!”

“Is there anything you don’t know about humans?”

“Yeah, why I see some of them wearing those funny diadems – what do they call it – ah I got it: “hats”, on the top of their head? That really intrigues me.”

Winger seemingly invested much time and effort into researching humans, or at least remembered well the lessons and lectures they had been given in school and the boot camp. 

“Why don’t you just apply for a programme yourself?” Zaalia shot the question at the Engineer.

“Unfortunately, Spec, I can’t allow the luxury of leaving my post”.

“That’s what the exchange programmes are for! You would be substituted by your human counterpart for the time; I’m sure you could find a programme that suits your specialization.”

Winger frowned as he seemed seriously mulling over the idea. “I will check out the opportunities!” he promised.

“Next time we see you back, you’ll be all manicured-pedicured off of your talons!” Jorrin giggled; Winger just rolled his eyes at the female’s comment, but eventually turned back to Zaalia.

“Thanks for the inspiration; anyway... got to say, it was a pleasure, Specialist Gerumis!” he said as he glanced at the clock on the wall displaying the Galactic Standard Time on top, and below a series of different time zones that were in use around Citadel space “If we don’t meet before your leave, that’s ‘cause we were working so good and fast!”

The technicians excused themselves; their shift was about to start: and Zaalia also wanted to test the gym before she left. 

She casually walked into the exercise room. As a matter of fact, it was more like a huge hall, which reminded her of a fighting stadium with all the possible exercise equipment around the place that might be needed for training purposes, and to keep the crew in shape.  _ Wow. _ She expected something much, much smaller, like their own gym at their base: with poor air circulation, dim lights, and old equipment.

“I hope you didn’t catch it” Pretonus yelled at her from a short distance. He was already stretching his arms and legs.

“What?”

“That guy you hung with; he’s got ‘ _ flaked carapace’ _ , for your info. I believe those slippery scales would not fit your skin, Gerumis.”

“Maybe I like it slippery.” she threw her head back sullenly, eventually twinkling a smile in the corner of her mouth. “But how do you know?”

“Had a chat with the combat instructor; great guy” – he jerked a thumb towards the figure of a turian with dark carapace, working out on some wall bars alone, given the early hour. His grey plates were shifting and lapsing along his spine and over his astoundingly broad shoulders as he pulled himself up and down slowly yet firmly, without the least shake in his muscles. 

“He literally is” Zaalia added gaping at the turian’s impressive physique and fitness.

“Watch the jaw, Gerumis.” Pretonus pushed her on the shoulder smiling slyly; 

Realizing her awkward expression, she snapped her mouth shut shaking her head smiling bashfully over her blatant lapse.

“Okay, let’s warm up!” the team leader exclaimed as he frisked onto the square of mats, doing a few forms, kicking and punching out rapidly in the air. Zaalia shook off her shoes and jumped on the mats, too, extending her toes and fingers, subsequently bouncing around to relax her muscles. She did a few flexing moves to ease the still lurking stiffness in her deeper muscles around her spine.

“Shall we begin?” the soldier inquired tilting his head. 

In reply the specialist tucked her chin down and raised her bare arms. The pair started to move about, circling slowly to assess each other’s motions and scan for weak spots. Pretonus was waiting for her to come at him first. Zaalia slowly built up her pace to the point feeling brisk enough to shoot out her first strike. It was fast, but nothing more than a feeler. Pretonus deflected this and the subsequent five similar punches with ease, and gestured to her to bring it on. He didn’t have to ask twice.

Just as if they shifted up a gear, the tempo of back-and-forth smacks increased. Finally she felt operating like a properly oiled machine, smooth and swift! Unwilling to fatigue herself more than necessary, she shifted her focus to her footwork, readying her leg to wear his defences down. She pondered no longer, but burst out for a prompt kick on his front knee, quickly repeating with her back leg on his chest, but her attack was falling on his firm defences. He barely stepped back, but she definitely caught his attention. Zaalia couldn’t hide her smile, seeing her momentum seriously surprised her partner.

“Don’t stop!” he prodded. 

“There is more from where it came from!” she boasted, but Pretonus barely had the time to prepare for absorbing her flash of a round kick, which was trailed in the next second by her series of punches, in an attempt to exploit the sergeant’s slight reel. Pretonus was tall, but had a stringy, thin constitution. Zaalia’s medium height – by turian standards – and even her light frame was sufficient to create enough force to dislodge him from his balance – given she applied her technique right. The soldier huffed as he parried the offensive, swiping her finishing hand to the side, which he instantly countered with a punch stopping only inches from her forehead. She could feel her nerves sending out a numb sensation of anticipation spreading over her face.  _ Well, that was close! _

Bouncing back, she reassumed her posture, but the solder did not let go; he was closing the gap between them by leaping after her immediately with his back leg arching towards her head, but she could already see he wouldn’t reach her in time; she airily dodged aside, and her right hand was already prepped for going on his ribcage hard. _ Yeah, he would finish that move with his back halfway towards her; “got you”...! _

She couldn’t have been more wrong. And she realized that soon enough as Pretonus’ continued to move fluidly in his spin, turning entirely out, with his back facing her now. She already knew what came next, but she couldn’t even finish chiding herself by the time the sergeant’s other foot hooked around and abruptly landed on her guarding left with great impact. Most of it was taken by her skin’s plating on the blade of her forearm, but she could feel the bruise on it regardless, while the shock knocked her out of balance. She desperately tried to back out and shift to the side to regain her composure. Pretonus definitely went for a more serious tone then what she expected based on his friendly invitation. 

A swift jab passed her temple, then a subsequent hook coming from nowhere and a smack barely touched her crest.  _ Damn, if she could get close to grab him… _ but in the next moment her abdomen cramped in paralyzing pain. 

Pretonus’ knee reached her, slipping under her disordered guard. Her eyes widened as she gasped for air.

“Toughen up! You are better than this!” he barked and switched legs just long enough to let Zaalia raise her guard. He set off a salvo of light punches, powering up gradually, yet a  _ tad too quickly _ . Zaalia deflected one hit after the other, punching back at the soldier, but her pierces slipped off his arms, until his fist reached through, landing under her ribs. She wavered in her stance and tried to stand her ground taking a half step back; her toe’s claws were almost tearing into the mat, but the impact of the next blow made her knees flinch. Her vision got blurred as tears built up in her eyes; her physical strain felt twice as bad with her resentment over the sergeant’s spiteful aggression; she desperately tried to distance herself, attempting to flip out, but Pretonus was already preparing a final right hook; his eyes were probing for the gap between her arms targeting her gizzard, when an acrid, female voice ripped through the wild swishing noise of chafing fabrics and carapaces.

“I see you still fight like a girl.”

Pretonus stopped as he fell out of his rhythm, which came to Zaalia as a kind of salvation, allowing her to catch her breath. The sergeant’s eyes widened in surprise recognizing the rather short, yet sporty turian woman watching them as she passed by the mats. Realigning his stance he turned halfway towards her, regarding the woman with a long, surly look. 

“And I see you still look like a boy, Severan.” Pretonus came back harshly.

The female stopped abruptly for a moment.

_ She really had some long head horns for a woman _ – Zaalia thought.

Severan slowly walked around the mats, revulsion sitting on her face: “Glad to find you still make a perfect reference point, Pretonus: you stayed the exact same barefaced bastard.”

“I do hope though that you are getting on well with your lil sissy ‘Toni... And that he was worth becoming the spook for, for the rest of the class. I half-expected you two getting married after the Academy – the romantic knight you were – fighting your princess’s fights… has he grown some balls since then, or also left that for y…?”

“…you are getting dangerously close to losing yours this time.” she said, a wild flame flaring in her eyes.

“Come on Severan, when did you lose your sense of humour? Oh, wait, I remember: you never had one!”

Zaalia watched the unfolding squabble astounded. She just realized the sergeant was basically rope-dancing between maintaining his tough image, and avoiding getting physical with the female turian. She wondered if he was pulling the best of his diplomatic skills or was actually afraid of a fight; she soon had a strong guess though.

A snarky smile appeared under Severan’s mandible as she raised her head “I found it funny though, when you slipped on the blood of your buddy’s dripping nose.”

Severan briefly glanced at the female Spec Op; seeing her finally recuperated, she turned her back on them and strode off towards the far end of the hall where a number of punching bags and a few metal frames with ropes and adjustable pulleys were located. 

“You shouldn’t meddle in other people’s business all time, Severan!” Not intending to call much attention, Pretonus yelled after her once more, rather spiritless.

Zaalia just realized that even the burly combat instructor suspended his exercise and now eyed Severan across the room.

“What was that?” she turned to the fuming sergeant.

“Just a nuisance from the past…” he said furiously. ”We were not on best terms in Academy. It’s an old story, not important...”

“She seems big deal to me,” Zaalia insisted, scrutinizing the team leader’s face. “Kicked your ass?”

“None of your business, Gerumis!” he burst out in anger “Now shape up and let’s continue! You are yet to impress me!” His gruff command growled into her ears.

“Thanks…” she grimaced. “I’ve had enough.” she promptly jumped into her shoes and not even bothering with the fasteners, she set off towards the door.

“Hey, come back…” he asked, softening his tone, but she did not even slow down. “Gerumis, come back!” he called out firmly again, to no avail.

“Specialist Gerumis, get over here! It’s an  _ order _ !” his voice echoed.

Zaalia stopped in her tracks. She could hear her pulse throbbing in her ears; feeling the same kind of execration blistering in her chest that she felt whenever found Commander Merunn interfering with her career… Now, she got an order, which she had to and was always willing to comply with, however this was one of the rare, but unfortunately not rare  _ enough _ occasions, when Pretonus acted as an utmost jerk. Time by time he took advantage of his rank with a clearly personal agenda in situations when it didn’t earn him anything but the last word in a trivial quarrel.

She reservedly turned on her heel and walked up to him, looking into his eyes “Yes sir?”

“That’s more like it” he smirked, seemingly enjoying his position, but Zaalia saw the frustration in his eyes as well.

“What is your problem,… sir?” she inquired; her tone grave – just like her stare.

“We are not finished.” he indicated to take off her shoes.

“This is not a scheduled training and I just happened to lose my interest in it.”

Pretonus sidled closer to Zaalia, lowering his voice in a tone she couldn’t decide if was meant to be menacing or confidential “Oh, I’m sure you are interested; considering your condition...” he cracked a lopsided smile. Zaalia blinked in surprise. Furrowing her brow fringes, she glared at the sergeant “I know what you are made of Gerumis…You are a fighter. You and me, we are the same kind...”

“Get to the point, Pretonus.”

“The point is that you are not giving up, soldier!” he burst out in her direction. 

Zaalia’s body twitched in the fraction of a second. She evaded his fist with haste, dancing away, swiftly raising her guard; she could only thank her reflexes that she wasn’t gasping for air again. 

“You have been one of my best men; one of the best warriors!” He was tracing her movement around; Zaalia fixed her eyes on him, trying to listen to what he had to say and also looking for his smallest stir that might give his next move away. “Let me tell you what bugs me: when you started training with the team, you were the most promising full-contact specialist, then you started to fritter away; recon, intel, mechanics, piloting, explosives training and what not! You dragged yourself into everything, yet nothing.

Zaalia frowned. She had no idea where this was going. 

“You never go down the path all the way. Whatever you start, you step down half way through! What are you running from?” he asked, his brow fringes arching expectantly, but not waiting for an answer his two quick paced whisks slashed at the Specialist in an attempt to bring her guard down and get a hold of her hand. She countered with an effective twist on his grabbing hand that broke his hold.

His seemingly outright words struck her hard though.  _ Did he really mean it? Was she really like that? No… Damn jerk is just screwing with her head! _ An upset groan left her mouth as she threw an energetic cross-straight at him. He easily dodged.

“You are not putting your whole heart into it!” he pushed her extended hand aside, countering with an overhand that barely grazed her crests.

“I invest my time in what I feel for! Might I remind you, I am still the weapons specialist of the team; that’s because I suck at everything, right?!” 

“That’s because you are good at it! But what I don’t want to see is your unquestionable talent making you overconfident, comfortable and eventually: sloppy.” He scampered in a blink of an eye, unleashing a chain of strikes. Zaalia felt she was becoming overwhelmed; he was taller, heavier and more experienced in sparring than her. But there was no way she would have given herself easily after this… She noticed a gap between two punches; this was her chance. She leaped forward, her front leg laid over his lap, while her rear leg hooking behind his thighs; her whole weight suddenly resting on his knees, Pretonus could not hold his stance: the impact she clung herself on him with eventually pushed him off on the ground. His back was exposed; her arms wreathed around his neck in an instant!

Fairly surprised, he wriggled until managed to turn his head and throat towards her elbow to set his trachea free from the strain.

“Severan was better than me.” he hissed while still fighting Zaalia’s grip from behind “But I did not give up. This scar is my reminder for that.” he reached back behind his neck and pulled her supporting wrist to the front, jamming it under his armpit. Now, free on one side, he turned for Zaalia to see and pointed at his forehead-fringe that bore the signs of that fight from long ago.

“And what did it earn you?”

“Respect.”

“Definitely not from her!”

“That’s a price I paid gladly.”

“A year of my career spent as an errand-girl was not the price I was willing to pay!

Pretonus strained his muscles to spin around, and jump forward onto her. Zaalia was still lying on her back with him now in a mounted position. He leaned in close to keep her restrained.

“That was already your choice!” he whispered “When your transfer for Blackwatch was not countersigned, instead of seeing the chance you were given, you embraced your failure only; you had been given one whole year to hone yourself to perfection…”

“Well, nobody is perfect!” she uttered through her clenched teeth, breathing heavily under his pressure.

“I remember how you performed after you got the bad news. You were as active as dead xemna! And that was long before your med-check…”

“What about that?”

“You tell me.”

“…I’m alright…”

“Yeah, I can feel that” he strengthened his hold against her vigorous writhing “ _ Late Excited Neurosynaptic Auto-plasticity…  _ I’m no doc, but extranet is my friend…”

“Not here!” she whispered anxiously, scowling at him.

He leaned in closer “Clause 34 says enlists may be held at the regular service system as long as it constitutes unit coherence. I hope that clarifies why you should do as I say!

“You are threatening me?!”

“I throw you a ratline, now you start climbing!” he grunted, while hopping on her chest, fixating his knee against her head, and pushing her left elbow up to her temple.

“I don’t need your help!”

“Well, as your combat instructor, I see what you would be capable of, if you were finally focusing on a single thing; for a start: on what I’m saying! …When you revert to rely on your armament, your fragmented supplemental knowledge, anything, you are merely making up for your shortcomings!” 

She floundered, struggling to get her hands free, but his hold was too solid ”And if you listened,…” Pretonus continued, reaching over her, low above the ground, closing her right arm into his firm embrace against his sternum “you would not repeat…” she resisted in a vain attempt raising her waist to roll him off ”…the same mistakes…” he huffed, shifting his left leg above her neck from below“…AGAIN!” his back arched towards the ground, strutting her arm into a painful lock “You focus or you break, Gerumis!”

Zaalia was snarling under the tension of the team leader’s legs pushing her body to the ground, while levering her arm against his thigh. Her breathing was laboured; her sight getting hazy. She knew she was running on her last reserves…

“I still prefer…” she groaned defiantly “… the best of both worlds!” with her free hand she swiped his leg off and thrust her hips up to prop her torso over it. She clenched her teeth to overcome the intense pain of her flexing shoulder joint, but now she gained relief… She felt that adrenaline flushed through her system condensing in her mind as uncompromising resolve.

She kicked out to the side, spinning ninety degrees out on her back to grab her opponent’s right leg that he was still using to force her down. She hooked it under her armpit, holding onto his spur, and wreathed her left leg around to cross her ankles under his other thigh on the ground for leverage, while lugging her own leg spur against his calf to secure her position. Her move was fast and flawless.  _ No more talking, no more arguments. _ She could not afford to lose the upper hand again.  _ She could not afford being schooled like this...! _

Hugging his leg, she threw herself back.

Pretonus rattled in the wake of the trenchant twinge in his knee; his body stiffened as he tried to reach out desperately to her legs, but she dug them even deeper under his body. Zaalia fiercely stressed his foot more…

He tapped out. She released him and rolled out to the side.

Her blood was throbbing in her veins, making her whole face pulsing with heat, the fast rhythm of her heart drumming on her ears. Her mandibles twitched as if her mouth was opening to say something, but eventually she remained silent, merely panting.

Exhausted, she cast a brief glance at the far end of the hall. She could have bet Severan  _ just _ returned her attention to the punching bag… 

Inwardly, she smiled.


	3. Intermezzo

**Chapter III.**

**Intermezzo**

**_15:30 ZULU – 2182.11.08 CE_ **

“What’s up Kevin? You shouldn’t even have come in! Look at the clock!”

“Fact is: I was missing you guys so badly, I couldn’t resist even despite the  _ mass-lag _ . Darn it, tell me it works!” he halted right by the coffee machine on the corridor pushing on the buttons, while he was approached by the man for a greeting handshake. Kevin threw his backpack on one shoulder as he returned the gesture. Although he’d been sleeping most of the way back to Earth, coming through the windows, even the pale light of the slightly overcast sky above London felt like hundred pins stinging in his retina.

“When did you arrive? You surely didn’t have a long sleep”.

_ “This vending machine is out of order. Please call maintenance.”  _ a recorded female voice crooned sweetly.

“Argh!” he smacked his fist on the touch screen interface “Sorry Tom, say again?” He looked back at the man.

“Wow!” Thomas took a small step back with eyes widened.

“What?”

“Kev, you are the spitting image of the Killer Rabbit of Caerbannog!” he said pointing at his own eye.

“Oh shi…” Kevin exclaimed as he stepped before a reflective segment of the wall. He gingerly poked around the affected area with his fingers: the pouches below the eyes were pronounced with a slight hint of purple, while the white of his eyes were now encompassed by thick red capillaries. “Yeah, a coffee would definitely do some good!”

“Show your face to the doc and make that coffee two with prescription! Free coffee while it lasts!”

“Yah” he replied distantly. He was still staring at his horrid image.

“You still use it, don’t you? Just came from replication, eh?” Tom asked guilelessly.

“Yep. It’s good stuff.” he said curtly as he set off down the corridor. 

“I’m not sure if it feels as good as you say. To get doped you might better be away with Eximo! And also safer…”

“I could just get a prescription for that, too! Doc will be thrilled!” he said, rubbing his temple. “Look, just drop the topic”.

“No wonder they’re illegal, man. They are harmful.” 

“Nay, I’ll tell you again: I get these fluxes because mine is cut back on performance; to be safer.”

“But you’re straining its boundaries, aren’t you?”

“No, I’m straining _my_ _head_ by trying to take in all your tweeting about it!”

The pair walked on, Thomas still insistent to argue, but an unexpected sight came to his rescue as they crossed an automatic double wing door giving them way welcomingly. Kevin stopped in his tracks as he called out:

“What - the - hell?!” he stared eyes wide open at the exact same person who had been sitting with the laptop behind Jamal Kingsley in the pub back on Bekenstein yesterday.

The brown haired man slowly turned in the direction where the exclamation came from, subsequently a broad grin appeared under his chevron style moustache. 

The glass doors slid shut behind Kevin and Tom; each wings of the door bearing the logo of the Systems Alliance split arch running above Earth, guarded by the spread-out wings of an eagle. The text running around the circular logo made no doubt about Kevin was at home: ‘Systems Alliance Intelligence Agency’.

“Gerard! How in the nine hells you arrived so soon, you old fart!” Kevin yelled at the man. Regardless of the gag, he was probably in his other half of his thirties.

“Healthy nutrition: Mediterranean style!” he came back with a grin “…and cognac. Keeps me in shape; it’s my formalin!”

“And if I needed help? A hostage rescue situation?” Kevin asked with theatrical pique.

“Then probably it would have been your best interest to keep me as far from that situation as possible!”

“That is actually something I agree with. Thanks for the signal though, man. For a second I didn’t want to believe anybody else would be so interested in our meeting. When I saw you chillin by your laptop switched on, I seriously gave it a thought that you might had just got so bored that you had to while away the time with some nasty vids.”

“You were such a nice sight in that form fitting suit that I didn’t need anything like that to entertain myself.” he jeered, but also his brows gradually shifted for a furrow as his gaze fixed on Kevin’s red eyes.

“Anyway, Kev” Thomas interrupted the banter “the boss has been nuts whole day. He’s got your preliminary report.”

“Ah yeah, I tried to make it look nice but… you should go and see him” Gerard added, still inspecting Kevin’s tired face, but he quickly moved out to avoid the unwanted attention.

“What gives? Did I miss the spell-check?” he yelled sarcastically. 

“It was nice serving with you, Kevin!” Tom patted his back, making the last slap into a push towards the further end of the room. Recovering from his initial stutter he strode to the elevator and greeted all his colleagues whom he passed by on the way. There were several cubicles with workstations for the staff in the huge rounded room, and there was an enormous, multiscreen holographic display bending along the wall halfway around. Now it showed general data about Earth weather, connection status with extra-sol SAIA stations and highlighted events marked with icons and timers. As he looked around, he could tell that most of the people were in today.

Exiting the elevator two levels above, he almost bumped into Sarah, who was storming at the elevator. She was a member of the Officers Committee and as such her office was located on the same level with the head of their division.

“Hey!” Kevin said as he jumped out of her way just in time.

“Hello  _ hun _ !” the chestnut blond woman yelled after staggering back in surprise, a grin crossing her face. 

They were approximately the same age; he never asked her though.

“Hah, I did not forget it! Hang on, just hang on!” he sank on one knee placing his backpack on the other to unzip it. After a short while he pulled his hand out “…Aaand I brought you… this!”

“What? Oh come on! I thought you were joking!” she cracked up as she noticed the earmuffs in his hand.

“I was. But heck, that was the first idea popping into my mind!” 

She took the earmuffs and placed them on warily, not to mess up her hair, while swinging her leg in the way of the sensor to keep the elevator open.

“Oh, this is what I’ve always dreamed of!” she imitated an overly sweet voice while trying it on. “However you just can’t hit my size.” 

“No good?” Damn, I can never satisfy you!” he frowned “It should be adjustable.”

“Play with it some more” she replied with a quick, yet futile attempt of changing the strap’s size, and held it out to Kevin. “I got to run, keep it with you will you?... Ooor how about swapping?”

“Swapping for what?” he enquired, but he could trace her gaze back to the opening of his bag, where his stash of exquisite beverages was peering out. 

“Sure thing! Make your pick!” he widened the mouth of the backpack. While she was inspecting the nicely curved bottles and the fine printed, engraved and embossed decals, Sarah’s mind wandered: “When you called in code “birthday party” you sent the chills down my back. Who the heck were they?”

“I didn’t know spells like that worked on your body,” he glanced at her, just to catch Sarah’s resentful look fitted with a hidden smile in the corner of her mouth, then he continued “No idea yet; probably working for the concurrency. But no worries, I took pictures. They are going through the vetting tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow is Saturday.”

“Even better, then let’s put it next week!” he yelled victoriously until his eyes met her glare “...Fine, I’mma do it tomorrow when it’s all issued in the system.”

“That’s more like it!” she smiled “All right, aw geez, I am already late!” Sarah’s omni-tool was set in the way that a small holographic watch was always showing the time around her wrist. “Glad you’re in one piece! See you on Monday, Kevin!” and with that she jumped into the elevator before the doors closed again.

* * *

_ The boss was not in his best mood indeed.  _ When he gained entry to Colonel James O’Bryan’s office, he seemed to be already leaving. His desk was clear and his locker’s alarm interface flashing red: thus being armed. Kevin stood straight at the side of the carpet.

“Good day sir, you wanted to see me.”

“I’m planning to leave for home today on time, so I hope your thoughts are well organized.” He threw in, his tall figure facing him challengingly. 

“Aye, sir.”

“What was this?” The question was simple, yet demanding. Kevin just didn’t know what; it was easy to slip before O’Bryan.

“The… operation, I assume?” Since no reply came, he continued with a bolder voice “It was part of our sting operation to infiltrate the Bekenstein smuggling network. We believe our target has access to circles of interest dealing with weapons smuggling and human trafficking… or alien, more precisely.”

“Why are we investigating weapons smuggling? It is police competence.”

“Erm… We discussed it earlier, sir, you authorized the investigation…” he started to doubt if O’Bryan read his early report at all. Or for the record, if he knew anything about the investigation he signed personally.

“I authorized the investigation on Bekenstein to sting an alleged terrorist conspiracy, if I remember right.”

He remembered right. 

Kevin did twist some words in that original report to make it sound more convincing to the brass.

“Well, our initial information is yet to be confirmed… and… and thus it was necessary to continue our investigation regarding our target…”

“Jamal Kingsley: a petty smuggler. I wouldn’t trust him with getting a loaf of bread from the grocery, let alone delivering weapons of any kind! He got caught three times within a month by authorities on minor offenses! 

“Actually, two of those checks were organized by us in cooperation with the local police”

Regardless, you managed to get the attention of some crime lords and now you made yourself a target, and likely endangered your would-be agent!”

“It’s not like that…”

“Then, please explain to me, when you were warned about surveillance, what made you think that leading them to your quarters would do any good to your cause.”

“I could have shaken them off, but it is our interest to find out who they are. And to protect our agent” he suddenly realized that his reasoning might be good enough not only to regain his stature, but also to convince O’Bryan “Feeding them my cover story would put Kingsley’s and my relationship to safer waters than letting them guess that I’m SAIA or police.”

“Smart. Shall I remind you of your basic training? It wasn’t too long ago, right? The less they know is the better. The less you use your cover, keeps it the stronger. You employed technical devices that we have the Operational Technical Department for!”

“I’ve got the training for them; I consulted the tech department. By installing the spyware on the NFC we took the same risk...”

“If a hotel employee would have found any of those…

“I made sure that…” at this time it was impossible to get out any good of this debriefing – or much rather a verbal hail. It was pointless to fight it. Let it pull you down, and hope that you can kick yourself off the ground once you are at the bottom.

“If surveillance would have found any of those, what would you have done? Did you think about it? Going in and shooting them? Explaining to the reporters and the police that you just found that playing hide and seek during a secret service operation seemed to be a good idea! Are you bored in your recent position, Blauhorn? Can I do anything for you? Because I start to see that the other way around doesn’t pay well to the  _ company _ !”

“I would  _ not _ have killed anybody…”

“Then they would have killed you, or the agent! Either way, you screwed up! I want your detailed report on my desk by Monday morning. Find Montgomery, he will fill you in on your next assignment. Dismissed!” 

He was already clad in a long black and grey coat, holding his umbrella with his elbow firmly against his side. He clearly wanted Kevin to leave before him probably to avoid walking together for any period of time on the way down; that would have been awkward. And the feeling was mutual: Kevin did not like that idea either, so he left at speed, taking the stairs instead to make sure they won’t stumble into each other. 

He couldn’t put his finger on it, why the colonel was such an ass – like always. If he wouldn’t have heard the same stories from his colleagues, he would have thought that O’Bryan had a personal piqué for him.

He took the turn in the stairways when he grabbed the rails with an abrupt stop, as suddenly the lights went out. It took a few seconds for his eyes to adapt to the faint emergency lights marking the walls to the nearest exit. Although he's got some natural light coming in from the corridor, too, there was something else as well sifting into the dark staircase...

Muffled metallic thumps were coming through the walls from the elevator shaft. As realisation struck him, Kevin slowly continued his way on tiptoes with a broad and satisfied grin across his face...

Major Roland Montgomery was O’Bryan’s deputy. As they said, it’s the worst position: You take all the crap but you won’t get any real power for it. But at least he had his own private office. It’s a small formality; more than nothing. Kevin entered the office with a deep sigh. Roland was sitting by the table, browsing some folders. 

“Hey, Kevin! Good to see you!” The major greeted him while pulling the curtains aside “Wow, for once maintenance started to work when they actually announced it...“ he mumbled “Have you been to O’Bryan?”

Kevin strode up to him for a handshake.

“What do you think?”

“Take a seat. He wasn’t thrilled; but that’s not new, I guess. Though you look quite happy...”

“Nah, just my good nature,” he waved his hand “But you know what I think? He is trying to imply that we shouldn’t work at all,” he leant back in the chair, puckering his lips clownishly “he is just too shy to tell us directly;” ‘cause as long as you do nothing, your arse is safe!”

You were good, Kevin. Maybe I wouldn’t have tried to pull off that trap you set up, but it worked, so it’s cool with me! Nice work in the end. The boss has been a bit nervous lately, but I can’t blame him. Divisions will be reorganized next year. Corridor-rumours from the top tell that maybe SAIA will be divided into a military and a civil branch, both of them operating on galactic level. James wants to get some good results and stay clear of any problems until it all plays out. It can cost him dearly.

“Yah, and it can cost dozens or hundreds or thousands of lives dearly, but who cares after all, unless it’s somebody’s chair toppling! Really. Who would take responsibility for that?” 

“I don’t know, but the boss knows how to play his cards. He has always known. I don’t always agree with him and his style or methods, but he definitely has more insight than what he shows. Just do as he says.”

“I’ll find it out on Monday.”

Yeah, that’s one thing. But there is another. You’ll have some errands to run in the meantime.

Kevin narrowed his eyes. “What errands?”

“How do you feel ‘bout playing Liaison Officer?”

“I can’t even imagine whom would I liaise with,” a random guess struck him “Is it infiltration?”

“Nope; Jeffery Wilkinson from External Relations Division just fell out and they can’t provide more guys for the next week. It is just one week.”

“What am I gonna do?”

“Would you like something to drink?”

“Oh come on! It can’t be that bad!”

“You might have heard of the Interspecies Exchange Programmes.” 

“Or it can…” he mumbled “Hang in there;  _ interspecies _ ?”

“I’m itching by the thought of it. The Council pushes it down our throat... The programme covers almost all levels of the military structure. Piloting, aerospace- and ground combat, engineering, task forces, and galactic security. Though there is good in it. We can study their strategies and tactics point-blank.”

“What species are we talking about?” he asked suspiciously.

“Turians...” he fixed eyes with Kevin.

In turn he was gazing at him for a few long seconds. He recalled the image of the “raptor-people” in his mind: razor sharp talons and teeth, scaly skin with crocodile-like spikes and ridges all over their body, elongated, dinosaur-like head and a skull-like face with piercing yellow eyes... He wouldn’t expect more intelligence from such a creature than that of a clever bird.

“If I remember right...” he started reservedly “...we kicked their arses pretty bad at Shanxi. They might gain much more from this than we do.”

“Might be, but it’s bigger than us. We’ve got an order, and we have to comply. You know the Special Task Force was established within the SAIA during the early summer. This is a new thing to us; we are working on their proper integration. The brass wants us to have in-house tactical fast response capability. Now, considering that we will hardly get more resources for the foreseeable future, we will squeeze the hell out of poor task force guys. I'm already feeling bad for them...They will need to be as versatile as an omni tool, and if anybody, turians are praised for their multipurpose military units."

“Okay, but what do I have to do with this as a Liaison Officer? I guess I’m not being transferred to STF… right?

Montgomery stared at him, without the least sign of humour. The smile slowly started to fade on Kevin’s face.

“Of course not!” He grinned and returned to his more serious tone “but these programmes had started only a couple of years back; we are still one of the first in the series; all eyes are on us. So we are making sure our guests are happy, their needs are satisfied and leave with a big smile on their face.”

“Yah…” Kevin imagined a smiling turian and instantly regretted he did so“...wait, satisfying what?!” Kevin exclaimed “I thought I was to greet and show them their rooms, but not being their butler or something!”

“...In the beginning of the year there was a joint Marine training programme, we’ve got a short cooperation with the salarians between March and April, here we go now for the following three weeks, and as far as the schedule goes, there is one engineering exchange early next year with the  _ SSV Perugia _ included. Given the chance to infiltrate, if the brass gives us the nod, we might also have some work to do about it... So unless you preferred playing an engineer on an alien ship, I’d take this task instead and say later that you’ve done your part and your face had burned out.”

Kevin considered Montgomery’s words duly.

“So yes, there is almost nothing that could go wrong – that is what I would say if it was a simple international issue. Even a SWAT team from the most conservative part of the world would be a simple gallop, but this time we’ve got some  _ aliens _ ; on Earth. External Relations have been working to prepare everything for months. The gears should run oiled, just make sure you are not a grain of sand between them, and you should be fine.” Montgomery put in turning to the side, typing away on his console.

“Considering our lack of barracks, similarly to STF, our guests will be accommodated in the SAIA apartment.”

“Oh great!”

“You might get some new neighbours!” He added casually “And here is the schedule. You are supposed to give them orientation tomorrow morning. It’s gonna add to your overtime.” he pressed a key on the haptic interface and subsequently a short beep on Kevin’s omni-tool indicated the incoming message. “Ah yeah, and you better finish before the electricians shut down the UPS at 9.00 pm,” he said while settling back into his work.

“I hope you can read my happy face!” Kevin snarled “When do I start?”

Montgomery snatched his head up as if he was surprised “Are you still here?”


	4. Close Encounters - Part II.

**Chapter IV.**

**Close Encounters**

**Part II.**

  
**_Heathrow Spaceport, London, Earth [Solar System – Local Cluster] – 18:45 UTC – 2182.11.08 CE_ **

Droplets were racing down the huge glass wall. The sky turned almost completely dark due to the thick clouds, which also brought the cold, drizzling rain that made the view even more depressing. He was gazing at his obscure reflection lit by the cool white LED tubes of the VIP terminal’s waiting room.

“They’re gonna love it.” the taller, bald young man said impassively.

“Yah.” Kevin added, mimicking his tone, while trying to control his rising heart rate.

“Will you tell me when you are about to pass out?”

“Will you shut up?”

He caught up with Ante Erceg from External Relations soon after his briefing with Roland. The officer was the other person appointed to the turians beside Wilkinson – whom Kevin was replacing for the next week. Kevin came to a quick agreement with Ante that he would sit by the wheel and let Erceg entertain the guests on the way to the apartments. 

He snapped his eyes at every new flashing dot appearing in the sky, then punctiliously glimpsed at his omni-watch and the screen projected above the benches, to check the arrivals. The top entry was ‘ _ Shuttle LV426 – SSV HK’ _ , due in any minute; he could tell by its freshly changed status to  _ ‘Entry’. _ He pinned his eyes on the sky. 

Most of the heavy air traffic was directed in a way that a vertical corridor was cleared for space vessels entering and leaving the spaceport. The flashing lights of the countless aircraft put out this less busy, scarce patch on the sky, which was easily visible in clear weather at night; he usually enjoyed the sight of the twinkling dots, doubled on the giant mirror of the Wraysbury Water Reservoir with the old airport’s irradiation in the background, but now it was a hazy mess with the eerie will-o’-the-wisps phasing behind the curtain of rainclouds, wobbling above Heathrow.

Kevin noticed his palms were cold, yet sweating again; just like on their way here. He rubbed them against his trousers and tried to recall what he had learned en-route.

To his misfortune, Ante was not much of a xeno-specialist either. The man was transferred from MI5 not long ago; handed in his request to the division where he knew his application could get some push in the selection process.  _ It is good to have friends here and there. _ He was about six years older than Kevin, being in his mid-thirties; which came with some extra diplomas, and also some field experience and a wide encyclopaedic knowledge. 

While driving to the spaceport, the man tried his best to search for some basic description on the turian physique and social behaviour, but despite his efforts Kevin still felt just like before entering a dentist’s consulting room; and to be honest: he couldn’t remember a thing about what Ante read out to him. 

A steady patch of light appeared and started to grow brighter in the middle of the aerial corridor. The two men fixed their eyes at the approaching vessel. The Kodiak gracefully descended to the point where they could take out its details, such as its Alliance decals and the tail number in the lights of the landing pad, to confirm that it was in fact the shuttle they were waiting for. In a minute the vessel was already touching down not far from the terminal, stirring a vortex of vapour above the wet asphalt in the wake of its thrusters’ turbulence.

“All right, here we go.”

A bus has set off to sidle by the spacecraft; the two officers padded down to the reception storey. 

“Okay Kevin, you just flash your thirty-two and let me do the talking.” he said, keeping his eyes on the arrivals.

“The stage is all yours, man.” He stepped aside letting Ante coming forth; he had rarely ever been more accommodating.

The bus’ headlights dazzled them for a moment, before it hauled to a stop with its side facing the terminal entrance. The doors slid open; five lean figures pressed through with their huge kit-bags in their hand or across their back. 

Kevin has never seen any turians up-close earlier; if their strange silhouettes weren’t alien enough, their movement surely sent the creeps down Kevin’s spine. Until they crossed the threshold where some diffuse light could reveal more of their forms, he could only take out five shady bodies, like some strange, thin puppets, which came to life from the depth of a film studio’s ages-old storage, sauntering towards them in a disturbingly unnatural way. 

The experience of seeing those oddly shaped figures that his mind had been unsuccessfully trying to bind to its closest resemblance: humans, yet different enough to not know instinctively how the muscle structure of such a being would support and propel their frame, made them fall right in the uncanny valley.

_ People got used to all kinds of monsters, fantastic creatures and giant robots; cameras also brought the greatest beasts to just a few inches on the holo-screens, but when such a thing is there, breathing, live, within the reach of your touch, that’s a creepy feeling! _

Two Alliance guards were standing at attention by the door frames. A third uniformed member of the staff asked for the identification of the arrivals. This barely took a few seconds of their time as a detector gate scanned them with their data appearing on the screen behind the cabinet where the man stood. Each time one of them passed through, their omni-tool fired up, as the device read it.

“Would you hold it there for a moment, sir?” the security officer held a hand up, then typed away on his console; he frowned as he compared the ID photos with the face of the only turian in the group that had no colourful markings on his face. The alien was eyeing him patiently in the crossfire of the flickering scanner and anti-germ lasers.”

“As if he could tell the difference,” Ante leant in whispering cynically.

“I assume he is looking for a resemblance.” He replied absently, appraising the stringy creature before him.

“Whatever.”

Erceg stepped forward, when the leader of the alien group reached them. 

“Good evening, sir! 1st Lieutenant Ante Erceg, Liaison Officer, Systems Alliance, External Relations.”

“Nice to meet you, sir! Sergeant Varian Pretonus of the 17 th Battalion Special Operations detachment. Thanks for the  _ warm _ welcome.” the tall soldier nodded indicating the weather, with a grin –  _ or was it? _

It wasn’t only Kevin who felt nonplussed for the next moment. Was he ironic there? They were trying to read the turian’s face desperately.

“Well, this is my colleague, Kevin Blauhorn; he is from Intel...

“...in fact the same directorate! Liaison Officer Blauhorn; nice to meet you.” he cut him off, but suddenly became unsure about his next move. He instinctively held his right hand out to the alien, wondering if it was appropriate. The turian glimpsed down then fixed its bird eyes at him. Yeah, it was definitely a dental-drill-is-coming-in moment. He was not used to feeling like a prey, but the blue sparkling eyes pinned him like an eagle assessing its target. His excitement made him completely forget he was about to touch a turian. Pretonus regarded him briefly, then eventually grabbed his hand and shook it somewhat exorbitantly, explicitly nodding his head. The strong and thick fingers felt like the grip of an oversized parrot – the only thing he could relate to. Kevin suddenly remembered the turian gesture Ante read about; now it was him a little overdoing his part… Pretonus quickly sprang back to avoid the human’s forehead coming in close, as he bowed.

The scene audibly woke some hilarity among the rest of the team as they watched the two holding hands.

The team leader cast an eye to the side at his men then released his grip, stepping aside to let his people advance forth to be greeted by their hosts. Kevin rattled out his name a few times as the turians passed him following their sergeant’s gesture of exchanging hands, seemingly paying attention to keep their heads away, as if they were half-expecting a head-butt.

The team leader was followed by a massively built soldier with remarkably long horns going back on the top of his head; then one that introduced himself as Corporal Demian Efrux; and there were two, visibly smaller and skinnier, also probably younger turians, coming behind him: the shorter one with the light carapace and a softer voice being a specialist, the other, with a bluish metallic shine to his non-tattooed carapace was a private, called Taren.

Remembering the strange names was a feat Kevin one-sidedly passed to Erceg; he planned to catch up on that later. Instead, he trotted up to join the team leader and Erceg, leading the rest of the group out of the building.

“I hope you brought some warm clothes. We are having some windy days coming up,” he said, indicating the turian’s thin jacket.

“We were informed by your colleagues well ahead that it’s going to be wintertime, so yes. They also said though that it’s not that bad in this corner of the Earth.”

“Believe me, it is.” Kevin leant closer and said confidentially. “I don’t know if you have strong winds on Palaven, but here it blows through you right to the bones almost all the time. During winter, you just get the cold water vapour as an extra. I mean, he’s been living here for a decade and look at his face...”

The turian turned his head to regard Ante’s indicated facial features. The officer stared back at Kevin with his most sulky expression.

“See?” an ear-to-ear smile crossed his face as they walked on “So… Is it all your baggage?” he pointed at the kit-bags.

“We’ve got some crates, too, but the crew insisted on trolleying them in.” 

“Yeah, we would like you make yourself at home.” Ante put in.

“That’s why it feels strange… but I can get used to it!”

The two officers walked them out to the parking area. Their baggage was already placed orderly by the minivan with two porters waiting at attention. As the group arrived, the vehicle identified its assigned driver, and unlocked the doors. Nobody could deny the turians made a smooth team. They were packed and ready in a few seconds, before the porters could even reach out for the crates, and to the humans’ relief all their belongings fit into the van just perfectly.

Kevin stepped on the accelerator and the electric engine wound up with its peculiar whine as they were speeding out of the VIP parking lot, crossing the gates under the raised barriers. The high traffic on the roads belied the bad weather and the relatively late hour. Pairs of the most distinctly shaped headlights – real piece-of-arts – passed them, and they fleetingly lit the streamlined interiors of the van. Kevin switched some music on set to a moderate volume to fill the silence.

“How’s your journey been?” Ante broke the monotone whirr of the tyres after a while, his eyes flicking from one turian to the other, indicating he’d try to draw all of them into the conversation. However, as it was, they waited for the highest in rank to answer.

“Splendid, sir. It took us three days to get here; most of it spent on one of our cruisers, then a short joyride on the  _ SSV Hong Kong, _ “ Pretonus replied.

“Ever been to Earth before?”

“No, it’s my first time… and I’m afraid it is for the rest of the guys as well,” he said peeking to each of his sides. His comrades nodded respectively.”

“We hope you’ll like it here.”

“I’m sure we will sir, but we didn’t come to dissipate. We are looking forward to work together with your guys. Have you served with the Alliance armed forces?”

“No, however we are an armed service, too.” Ante said almost defensively “We have servicemen from police forces, military, aerospace forces, intelligence services and even people coming from the civilian sphere.” 

“Is it common that civilians apply to interplanetary secret services right from the street?” 

“Not how it used to be, but you can find green members of the staff like that. Care to share your own experiences, Kevin?” he raised his voice to make sure it reaches to the driver’s seat, sneering at the 2nd Lieutenant’s expense.

“I would, but senior staff _like_ _you_ might not have the heart to take the rough parts!” he fired back.

Efrux snickered, while watching the passing lights of the outer city outside the window through glazy eyes. The conversation mostly continued between Pretonus and Erceg. The rest of the guests seemed to be either too tired or just comfortable with their position of not being necessary to join the customary courtesy-talk.

“And what are you doing, sir?” Taren put in. 

“I had been serving with our national service for quite a few years; may I say I spent ten of them out in the field, before transferring to External Relations.”

“That was intelligence gathering, right? Are we talking ‘behind-enemy-lines activity?’” Pretonus interposed. 

“No, it’s more like counter-extremism.”

“Interesting to see there are ideological tensions among humans, too. I expected it, I just never heard of it.” he said thoughtfully “I imagine the job was a mind-game rather than a pack of action.”

“Sort of, but, I had my edgy moments… one time my transmitter went dead right when I was to summon our commando at a warehouse. I had to talk the target’s head off to earn time until the entry team positioned closer, to tap onto my words; actually I kept repeating the code for immediate entry in all possible contexts till they finally heard it.” Ante gazed ahead as if he was brooding over his glorious past “Yeah, there were a few  _ where I was hanging by a hair. _ ”

“Hmm.” the turian nodded in acknowledgement, but Kevin snapped:

“A clear indication you are lying.” he reached back where Ante was sitting facing the rear of the van, and mockingly patted his shiny head, flashing an elfin sneer in the mirror.

* * *

Kevin slowed the van; its regenerative brakes gave out a deepening whirr until he stirred the wheel and stopped before the main gate. Shortly the wings folded aside, giving way into the interlock area. The vehicle rolled over the security scanner, while Ante saw the guests to the agency’s security desk, preparing them for entry. Once the guests were registered they embarked in the vehicle again, the humans giving them a ride to their accommodations.

“20:23! And  _ that’s _ what I call a timely home-run! You get it man, right?  _ Home-run _ .” he winked at his colleague.

Ante’s eyes made it clear that he got it – considering the murderous stare.

The apartment complex was separate from the rest of the SAIA buildings, but was still within the confinement of the compound’s walls. The five storey building served as temporary in-house accommodation provided by the agency to its workers and guests, while also housed the medical facilities in a section of the ground floor. Given its completion was no longer ago than six or seven years, the design of the frontispiece and the interiors looked modern and up to date, just like most of the SAIA compound which consisted of similarly new or freshly renovated premises; making the general staff wonder why the hell they needed to stumble into recovery sites all around the place.

“Heck, these guys never give you a break?” Kevin muttered as he overtook the white maintenance van decorated with yellow and black stripe decals, which was parked right before the hedges in front of the apartments, and then stopped as close to the entrance as possible.

As the guests jumped out soldierly in quick succession, it was almost hilarious to see their surprise as the cold wafts swiped them in their side, urging them to grab their equipment and march to the building at speed with necks drawn in. Their omni-tools flashed up briefly when reaching the revolving door. Kevin halted and typed a few extra buttons on the interface to get the side door open for the huger bags.

“What’s in them?”

“Surprise” corporal Efrux said grudgingly, wiping the chilly sprinkles off his face.

“But seriously.” he insisted, still smiling.

“Training drones and our weapons.” Pretonus put in.

“Would you have bad dreams without them under your pillow?” he asked, but the turian tilted his head furrowing… “I mean, we could lock these away on this storey until you need them.”

“Yes, that’s fine.” The turian concurred and instructed his comrades to move the crates into the storage room Ante just opened up for them, before heading to their quarters.

The group finally reached the fourth storey in two rounds, as only four of them fit in the elevator with their packs. When they all lined up on the corridor, the officers came forth to show them their apartments.

“So, these are your rooms, gentlemen from number 421 to 424. Your omni-tools have been set to open the allocated rooms, which are suited with basic bathing facilities; on the other hand the showers are located just before the end of the hallway.”

“Are they shared?” A higher pitch voice called out from behind the tallest and burliest turian.

“We hope so.” the corporal muttered smiling, as he turned back.

With an irresolute move, Ante looked down at his omni-tool, bringing up the accommodation documents, while Kevin was craning his head searching for the source of the enquiry. The turians stepped aside, leaving  _ that _ ‘short and skinny’ one standing in the middle, staring at the humans questioningly. Kevin blinked a few times starting to feel embarrassed as he scrutinized the features of the small turian’s face. The realization came to him like a cold shower. 

He slowly leaned closer to Ante, forgetting about his gaze still lingering over her, whispering “You knew  _ he _ was a  _ she _ , right?”

“Erm... well,” he hesitated to reply as his eyes were running wildly across the pages. “Yeah, there was a note put here...” He finally pointed at the relating paragraph then both of them looked up at her.

“Miss, erm,” Kevin started clearing his throat with less confidence in a dubious attempt to save the situation, as Ante quickly looked up and muttered her name into his ear... “Gerumis!“ Kevin pointed out with utter relief, just to notice a second later how strange his exclamation must have sounded. His impression was reinforced by five tilted heads gazing at him. “Yes, so... no! Your room is situated... “ Ante pushed his own omni-tool screen under his nose; he shot his eyes down then up again “...on the storey above. Room 521 I’ll see you to the door ma’am. It’s with a bathroom en-suite.

“Look at that favouritism!” Taren hollered, grinning.

“The women’s wing would be in a different section of the building, we guessed you’d rather stay closer together. On a ‘ladies first’ bases, we allocated our free en-suite room to the only woman in your team.” Ante explained in the specialist’s defence, but the turians were already resolute about ragging on her.

“Well, I shall return to my residency,” she uttered in a cheeky tone, spinning around elegantly, to promenade to the elevator, succeeded by the theatrical grouches and griping of the males. 

Kevin had already called the lift and held it until the turian got inside; he had to confess that he admired the feminine change in her motion as she was playing to the crowd. However his slowly dropping chin was more for the feat of her airy moves pulled off with the enormous kitbag across her shoulders. Kevin got inside, too and pressed the button to storey five. Facing the opening, she threw her head back bumptiously, grinning at the ops.

Kevin was standing by the control panel, still smiling at the intermezzo, when his eyes wandered up at the digital clock displaying the time 20:59.

“Oh shi…!” He snapped as he hastily hit the open button repeatedly, but the door had already closed and the elevator started to move without any reaction to his orders.

The dial changed to 21:00. Then there was no longer a dial to see; they were standing for a few seconds in the darkness like this.

“Why, my day would have not been complete without another power cut.” she fetched a resigned sigh.

“Keep calm ma’am, I’m here.”

“Ah, do I look nervous?” she asked a little more sullenly than how she intended.

Kevin was surprised at the waspy comment, just like Zaalia. She couldn’t find a better answer for herself other than blaming the cold weather.

“You don’t look  _ anything _ .” he came back with a defiant resolve.

A shrill screech cut them off from above, approaching in a menacing pace, it reached them with a loud metallic crank, and the elevator jerked below their feet.

“God!”

“Spirits!”

Kevin threw himself to the wall, reaching for the rail, while Zaalia instinctively assumed her fighting stance with slightly bent legs, from which she could react in the fastest way to any emergency. In the end this played out with Kevin grabbing on Zaalia’s forearm, which almost earned him a reflexive arm twist if it wasn’t for her quick assessment of the situation that eventually left her knocked out of balance. Under the human’s weight, she floundered at him, her shoulder pushing against his;  _ it was supposed to be much softer by the looks _ – she thought grudgingly as she regained her composure, rubbing her numb plates over the joint she just hit.

“Whoa! Was that you?” he released her, snatching on the actual rails this time.

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry…”

“…Who else would it be?!” she japed. 

He saved the answer. Instead he looked around in the blank darkness. 

“Heh, right; it’s nothing, just the brakes. No worries.” he laughed as he quickly released the handrail and yanked his collar wryly, straining his eyes to find where the turian was – wondering if she could sense somehow any of his not-so-graceful clinging to the bars – if grabbing her hadn’t been enough of a giveaway. But of course, he could not even see the tip of his own nose.

“So…You see in the dark?”

“What?... Me?”

“No, I mean… as in turians.”

“Ooh... Oh, Yes.”

“Oh?” He blinked a few times and set his eyes to the front, leastwise where he assumed “front” would be, trying to pull a straight face to chase his blush away. That wasn’t the answer he expected.

“You look scared,” the specialist added forwardly amiably.

“How many fingers am I showing?”

“Two.”

“Wow, you do see me!”

“And that’s only one of the things we can do,” she said insinuatingly. “You’ll see soon.”

“You know, your species are considered…  _ were _ considered being scary,” he corrected himself promptly; he felt he shouldn’t have let his own sentiments influence his words about general statements, just realizing a second later that his words were not in line with his sentiments at all!

He was confined in a small lift with one of the less human-like creatures of the Citadel races, and he felt relaxed.  _ What?! _

“Parents used to threaten their children if they were no good, that the turians would come and abduct them.” he continued. “Like, when I heard a clatter in the dark, I always imagined a turian was hiding under by bed,” he confessed.

“Interesting fantasies you entertained, Lieutenant,” she teased.

“I was a kid, please!”

The turian huffed; Kevin wasn’t sure, but it sounded like a repressed snigger. Kevin continued his previous thought anyway:

“And after all that, look at us now. We are training together, working together, getting along…”

“…Stuck in an elevator…”

“Yah, these kinds of things,” he shrugged.

They were standing like this for a while.

The lights suddenly lit up the little cabin. Faint beeps from behind the control panel signalled the rebooting was done, suggesting it was operational again. The elevator slightly resonated as the hoisting mechanism actuated and a moment later the doors slid aside with a ping.

“Run for it.” Kevin said with little enthusiasm, as he stepped out, still wincing from the returned light.

The turian woman had already stormed out, not taking any chances.

“Thank the Spirits it didn’t last too long!” She sighed as she turned around to face the 2nd Lieutenant. “All right, thank you for seeing me to the door. It was exciting.”

“Talking of which,  _ that’s _ your door ma’am.” Kevin pointed in the direction of her room. 

“Thank you. Well, I hope you won’t need to check the wardrobe for me.”

“Not as long as you don’t make noises… Though I think I’m not that concerned about turians lurking in the dark anymore,” he uttered, gazing ahead.

“I guess I make a good therapist then?” 

He fixed eyes with her.

“Actually… I showed four.” he raised his hand with fingers extended but his pinkie bent.

The turian halted for a second and stared at him. Her mandibles lowered, partly exposing her teeth, and the plates on her face shifted almost subtly, just like the skin around her eyes…  _ She was smiling! Her eyes were smiling! _

Or, leastwise he hoped so.

“Good night, Lieutenant.”

“Good night ma’am.”

They parted; the turian entered her room as its door slid aside obediently, and Kevin strode to the elevator door, when suddenly recoiled, his eyes swinging between the staircase and the lift. He finally made up his mind and crossed the threshold; the doors closed... right before the  _ thud  _ of the main circuit breaker.

“Oh, come on!”

And  _ that’s _ what he called bad luck.


	5. Bark Worse than Bite

**Chapter V.**

#  **Bark Worse than Bite**

**_SAIA HQ, London, Earth [Solar System – Local Cluster] – 08:30 UTC – 2182.11.09 CE_ **

It was one of those rare Saturdays, which found Kevin in the office at such an early time. When he slightly raised his head, a deep indentation on his forehead marked the point where he had been leaning against the stylus till now.

He was browsing the files in the database, while had a screen behind him showing the software listing matches of photos based on a number of aspects. The process took a while, but at least it was highly automated. Oldies at the _company_ still praised the VI programmes that had been implemented a few years back – they, who still remembered when the work had to be done manually.

His one-time clearance for the search was authorized by O’Bryan the day before. The VI then initiated a series of requests to partner services, other authorities’ and auxiliary databases, while prompting the satellite SAIA offices around Alliance space.

Kevin wished _Prometheus_ had been already operational.

Instead, despite the VI aid, the method of making checks above a certain level of security clearance proved to be a tedious procedure. Communication was maintained on encrypted tunnels across the public Extranet, but SAIA followed their inherent old practices to maintain security. When the notion of interstellar intelligence gathering and espionage emerged, business quickly reverted to the old times, always requiring human intervention for closing the air gap between the mainframe and the network. The fear from the possibility of a technically superior intelligent race raised awareness in the intelligence community, too, urging the revision of information protection around the globe.

Conversations he had with colleagues from the tech department and a few evaluations he read reminded him that those security measures were in effect for a reason. From the first moment the Alliance worlds connected to the Extranet – the nervous system of the galactic community – cyber-attacks went off the charts right on the spot. Government organizations and members of the business sphere were both aghast by the countless sources of sophisticated attacks from alien Extranet Protocol addresses. No wonder it meant the start of a new and blooming era for IT security companies.

_Hmm…_ Dragged back to reality from his thoughts, he noticed a flashing sign on the screen.

One of the persons he encountered on Bekenstein seemed to be identified by face recognition. He was the one he spotted on the bench – how could he forget? Short blond hair, curls on the top, grey eyes sitting deep in his round skull; the man was registered as a Bekenstein colonist. But soon there was another hit; the man he encountered at the train station; he was a spacer: born on Arcturus station, single, in his mid-thirties, no criminal records, no national notices; he knew his memories would not lie, but double checked the photos – just in case. He narrowed his eyes as compared the ID images about the brown-haired man, having a distinctly wide jaw bone and characteristic eagle nose, with those he took of them on Bekenstein and nodded in assurance. He exported their personal data on a swap drive and rolled his chair a few metres away to another terminal with stickers of classification applied on it. The running software loaded the data and ran the checks in the internal database: _no adverse traces._

He glimpsed at the huge digital clock on the wall. It was pointless to sit and wait for the replies of the remote stations any longer, if not for lengthening the time spent in the warmth of the office. The slowly whirling fog outside the windows made the armchair even more enticing now, but his sense of duty took the better of him finally. He resignedly reached for his jacket.

Ante woke early, too; he made sure he was ready in due time, seeing the turians to the canteen for breakfast. He would have rather been waiting for them since 8:00 in one of his fancy shirt-and-suit sets, than being late by a single minute. Not like Kevin; he casually sported his thick black synthetic leather jacket and dark blue jeans – it was weekend after all. 

Kevin stuffed everything back to his locker and headed to the parade ground hoping he would catch up with them there.

The short walk to the Mess Hall let him muse about his feelings. He harboured a bit of unease about seeing the turian guys. It was not his world at all – considering their profession, doubled by their “alien” nature. On the other hand though, that strange and persistent curiosity was taking the better of him again, which he felt when approached those asari in the mall… He was intrigued, as if the last night would have only evoked his hunger for experience! Who knew when such a great opportunity would arise again to get cosy with some turians? He better grabbed the chance!

He spotted the odd group idling at the side of the parade ground, which had a central location with respect to the whole compound’s buildings and facilities. The garages for the APCs, the mobile command posts and other specialized vehicles were located at one side, while the General Director’s office and the main building faced the huge square from the East. A scaffolded, oblong building hugged the place from the South, which was to be the new barracks for the Special Task Force Division.

“Good morning gentlemen!” he yelled as he pulled closer to the flock of aliens and their guide, though the turians had spotted him already. 

“...and ladies!” he added hastily, as his eyes met Zaalia’s “That was also for you, Ante” he murmured confidentially leaning in to his colleague as he passed with a grin.

“Morning, Kevin.” He rolled his eyes. “Glad you could join us.”

Kevin just realized his repeated mistake of not getting on terms with the whole handshaking thing with turians, as he held out his right to the nearest alien from reflex. 

“Erm… we greet each other like this… each day, when we… never mind” his hand dropped languidly under the weight of the turian’s piercing yellow eyes.

“Private Taren Nazario… Good morning!” the flanging voice said amiably a second later.

Kevin apprehensively peered down and saw the offered hand. With a quick move he grabbed it and looked back up at the Private.

“Um, yeah, I know…” however this was the second time within one minute that he realized another mistake he made; that he actually did not rehearse the guests’ names! “You know, it’s just a habit among us – humans. We greet each other every day like this… usually. But… it’s Kevin Blauhorn if you wondered.” he put in quickly with a broad smile before moving on to greet the other Spec Ops, finally arriving at the Specialist, who just gave up trifling intensely with her omni-tool under the scrutinizing look of Corporal Efrux.

“How was your night?” he called out to her cheerfully while waving a hand.

Her eyes darted down, then suddenly up on his face faltering with the answer. 

“It was alright,” she said while his attention lingered on her slightly longer than what she would have not noticed, “Thanks,” she added somewhat apprehensively with an emphasizing nod.

In fact he really expected a conversation to take off more easily with the guest he got acquainted with the most so far.

“Ooo-kay…” He turned away with his smile wryly frozen on his face. _All right, no chit-chatting._

He raised his voice slightly and stepped beside Ante to address the whole group.

“So, I hope your breakfast was lovely and you slept well” his eye unconsciously flitted to Zaalia. “We don’t want to make speeches to bore you, so I just want to tell you the most important things. For the time being, we’re going to be your babysitters! You need anything: just cry out! You should already have got our contacts sent to your omni-tools, just like the keys to the apartment’s broadband network, which operates within the confinements of the compound. Any questions so far? Good! A copy about the programme was also circulated on the messaging list, which we will update in accordance with any changes made on your suggestions.”

“All right, so… since you’ll be spending the next three weeks in between these walls” Ante interposed as he considered his words “well, pretty capacious confinement of walls, and since it’s getting windy, “he pulled his coat tighter while regarding the team with their hands tucked deep in their pockets. ”I say let’s take a walk around the base shall we?”

The turians followed the two humans down the side of the parade ground. The asphalt path led to an open, grassy field partitioned into specialized training grounds, providing obstacles, platforms, barricades and various rearrangeable frames or fixed objects for whatever simulations were required by the Training Division, and for the greatest interest of the bypassing Spec-ops.

“This is a section of our exercise facilities.” Ante indicated with his arm. “Basic fitness, agility training...” he explained as they walked on into the building that Kevin pondered he likely visited as much – if not less – as the service-station or the ammunition storage.

“Here is our fitness complex” Ante said as he padded to the entrance and ushered the team inside from the ever-raging-on winds outside.

The doors closed soon after, and the little group could finally slacken their zips to enjoy the way much friendlier climate of the lobby. Kevin looked around and nodded, pouting in acknowledgement. _It had been in fact nicely renovated._ It was one of the moments when the urge tackled him to grab his sports bag and wander over here to enjoy the numerous – probably pretty expensive – exercise and body-building devices for free! But, this moment was also not different from the rest of its kind in that as fast it came, it parted at least as swiftly and without a note when he became distracted by a loud group of _very well built_ colleagues closing in from a corridor leading to the changing rooms on the other side of the glass wall that separated the lobby from the hall.

The four men abruptly cut their speech as they caught sight of the strangers on the other side of the glass. As the door wings slid aside they came through and passed with haste, giving them only either a brief nod, or mumbling a short greeting, avoiding any longer eye-contact with the aliens. Whether they had heard of the visitors or not, Kevin found it somewhat amusing how self-consciously these tough guys started to act despite ‘playing’ in the home-field… _and well, despite being tough_.

“Good morning!” only one firm yet friendly voice called out from the passing bunch.

“ _Mike_! Nice to see you!” the 2nd Lieutenant stepped in and slapped his palm against the man’s, grabbing each other’s hand for a second. 

“Yeah, you too;” he reciprocated the greeting, but he promptly turned back to the guests and addressed them head-on. “And I assume I’m lucky to first meet our comrades from the Hierarchy staying over to enjoy some good British weather.”

Pretonus did not wait to be introduced; he bent lightly, nodding his head, and extended his arm when the human approached him.

“Gunnery Chief Andreas Mikhailovich.”

“Am I right that I read your name somewhere on the participants’ list in the exchange training programme?”

“That should be correct. The trainees will mostly consist of my men, and a few from the rest of the teams. I am the leader of the 1st Detachment, Special Task Force Division.”

Pretonus nodded in acknowledgement; Mikhailovich turned to Kevin again:

“Hey, we are in today in full number… I don’t know your plan, but unless there’s something else on your mind, I suggest we all gather in the canteen to get to know each other better in the evening – and have fun.” he added. “As long as our turian friends have no better programmes either.”

“First let me ask my programme coordinator here. Ante?” Kevin raised his brows.

“Our schedule is perfectly free from 16:00.”

“Awesome! Now, if our guests agree as well…” he turned to Pretonus raising his eyebrow inquisitively.

“I believe we could use some down-time to get acquainted with our fellow task force ops, after all” he said casually and continued after a prompt lull “whom we are going to torture through the programme for the days to come.” he cracked a grin exposing his sharp line of teeth. With the word ‘torture’ his words laid on the humans in a slightly different flavour than what he intended. But even if he knew, he probably would have had no regrets. 

“All right, see you in the evening! _Gentlemen_ …” the gunnery chief nodded briefly at the group, saving a handshake with everyone, and dashed off the door after his comrades.

Kevin couldn’t help immediately looking for a certain pair of eyes. And as he anticipated, they rolled at the Chief’s hasty goodbye, taken into the group of the collective “gentlemen” once again. He hardly suppressed a silly smile as he sheepishly glanced away from Zaalia before her catching sight of him watching.

It tasted a bit like revenge, seeing her fuming as she passed him, for Ante ushering the guests through the second pair of doors.

With their little flock of birdmen they were striding down the hallway, led by Ante, and Kevin closing the line. As he kept staring at the digitigrade legs knocking on the floor Kevin mused the scene was remarkably similar to those with the raptors got loose in those old Jurassic Park movies. He got the shivers just by the thought of it; it really did have an impact on him when first saw the films as a kid. 

_Ah, it all comes back to me._ He yanked his collar awkwardly to disguise his previous quiver in case anyone had seen.

“…The building might be old, but it was refitted with the most recent tech of electronics, security and safety systems. But we are also lucky to say that renovations worth 40 million credits were granted to modernize and equip the building to today’s standard…”

Ante was entertaining them with numbers and figures like how much the brass plans to further spend on the facility and some vague plans that would be realized in a year or so. In fact the turians deserved all the respect for sporting their attention on him tirelessly. On the other hand, Kevin did not bother to cling on his words, but he wasn’t alone; trailing the Specialist walking one step ahead, he was trying to figure out what she was so occupied with.

“Tsss, damn” she hissed; mostly to herself, but the 2nd Lieutenant had already caught up with her and stared at the holographic interface with brows creased.

Picking up the motion she glimpsed to the side briefly, but only then she grasped that the human was pretty blatantly gazing at the omni-screen. She snapped her head at him, with a quick gesture exiting to the main menu.

“Can I help you, ma’am?” he put in amiably, yet sounding quite official, when he noticed that _finally_ she noticed him.

“No, thank you, I’m fine.” the turian said softly, yet with determination. 

“Doesn’t look like that.”

“No it’s all-right.” she replied dismissively.

Corporal Efrux who was pacing just a step ahead of them, and was definitely less concerned with Ante’s monologue, too, also turned his attention to their chatter now.

“Some communications problem?” Kevin insisted as a last resort before firing the already loaded “All-right, you know what? Then I don’t frickin’ care – ma’am!” on the back of his tongue.

“Yeah, her omni-tool doesn’t connect to the network. She should have automatic and universal roaming, but I already checked that.”

Kevin regarded the Corporal with a thankful nod for the information. He prided himself in hitting it off immediately with most people he had met – even if those relationships were merely based on professional interest, or if they gradually died soon after; but bouncing off of the young turian after the last night’s unintended, albeit eventually hilarious fiasco was a reaction he simply couldn’t accept – and most notably: could not comprehend!

“Have you checked the setup instructions we mailed to you?” he turned back to the Specialist once again.

“As I said Lieutenant, I had no connection. How was I supposed to get it?” no matter how velvety her words twanged, they stung; but she had a point.

“Touché.”

Kevin leant over tentatively to get a closer look at the screen hovering above Zaalia’s forearm. “May I?”

The turian woman reluctantly raised her arm for the 2nd Lieutenant to observe her device.

“Erm… It’s in turian.”

“Yes.”

He regarded her with a deep look in the eye for some slowly rolling seconds, and the turian stood the glare with a straight face. The Corporal was watching them for a while until he stepped in and broke the silence.

“Bump those fringes already!”

Zaalia grunted at the comment, and pulled away promptly.

“You’re a big girl, I’m sure you know how to change the language on the OS yourself.” The turian male indicated the device.

“You are such an ass.”

“Serves me well… What would you prefer?” he turned to Kevin.

“English, please?”

“Hang on.” She grumbled while she was digging into the menus to have the interface materialize with English captions then she held out her hand to Kevin again.

“Thank you, ma'am!” Kevin bowed his head with poorly feigned manner.

“Good luck, kiddos.” The turian Corporal bore himself with such paternal authority that not even Kevin as a host and an officer felt being in the position to raise a word against his condescending style. And to be honest, the more sullen the Specialist seemed by it, he found the situation the sweeter. Efrux joined the rest of the group that Ante navigated to the corridor on the left.

The 2nd Lieutenant and the Specialist stopped at the crossing, a few metres behind them. Kevin was familiar with the omni-tool’s OS. A swiftly adaptable, practical GUI was crucial for any omni-tool. With several generations down the road, manufacturers tweaked interfaces to a golden mean, where the same structure of menus was equally usable to all species in the market. This also cut development expenses for sure, and it brought the benefits of wide cross-platform compatibility. 

All these features came in handy, as he was browsing through the settings.

“…We’ve got two swimming pools. This one is for combat-diving practices, while that is for recreational purposes, and mainly for maintaining fitness of course. But it’s more like combining work with pleasure.”

“Pleasure?!”

Abashed flanging voices echoed in unison from the background. 

Concerned with their own thing, Kevin and Zaalia were both silently watching the diagnostics running as the omni-tool rebooted. 

“It should be working now.”

“What was the deal?”

The 2nd Lieutenant frowned thoughtfully.

“Wait for it…” he raised his index finger in suspension “Wait for it, aaand…” Zaalia stared at the connectivity indicator icon, which just loaded in “…and done!” he yelled victoriously, then raised his eyes to Zaalia, explaining casually “Well, I had to bypass a preinstalled Hierarchy firewall to provide our VI a backdoor for infiltrating your encrypted channel that kept your omni-tool’s communications tunnel continuously busy.”

“What?!” she scowled.

“Kidding!” just in case, he swiftly moved outside of her assumed punching range, hands held up. ”I have no idea, I swear; I simply forced a cold boot when I ran out of options! Seriously... easy like that.”

She regarded him for a brief moment before asking:

“Set it back to Turian.” she said imperatively.

“All right. Let me see.” he pulled closer cautiously.

“I’m going to watch you!”

In a matter of a few taps he’d been deep in the setup menus again.

“I hope that subtle change is reconciliation in your voice, Specialist…”

“ **Wow Gerumis** , you’ve got to see this!” the voice of Private Nazario echoed across the vast space of the swimming facility.

Both of them turned their attention to the turian soldier.

“Courtesy of our leadership is our little sauna corner with three chambers: an infra, a steam and a classical one. The contractors said it was impossible to fit them into such a small confinement of the given structures, but our General Director persuaded them to find a solution. And as you see, our General Director can be _very_ persuasive.” Ante went on with his tour guide attitude behind them.

“They’ve got a _thermae_! Well, a rather small one, but still… never expected such with humans! No offence meant...” the Private was still all into raptures over the discovery.

Zaalia glanced up at Kevin vaguely.

“Check it out!” Nazario insisted, and she did so, striding up to him.

But actually all the guests seemed quite excited about the saunas. The five aliens were crowding at the icons describing how to use the chambers.

“Well, you are welcome to return whenever you wish during your stay” Ante added, half-afraid that the aliens might have had some wildly strange addiction to saunas he had not been aware of – and which he had just given his consent to!

To the Liaison Officer’s greater relief they could part from the steam rooms soon, and go on with their tour, taking a quick peer into the gym, where most of the secondary-duty staff was spending their time, which in this case consisted of the STF ops to the greatest number, followed by four guards and two other persons from the Dignitary Protection Unit.

Only now he recollected his memories about how The Special Task Force Division was structured into eight detachments with two groups in each. This weekend only one detachment was in, while its scheduled pair was on leave with the restriction to stay within range for any opportune backup, to be ready to go in case the first on-duty team was deployed. Deciding on the participating individuals and teams in the exchange training programme was up to the STF leadership, whom he knew by sight, except a few faces; times like this Kevin realized repeatedly how few he knew about some of his colleagues’ working methods or schedules, many of whom he was sharing the same apartment building with. However with all honesty, he couldn’t care any less.

“Hey guys!” his mind was racing to recall at least one name from the many of them.

The bunch of warrant officers in the room returned the greeting automatically and went on with their exercises, except one man: medium tall, with traces of Persian characteristics; wide shoulders, dark skin and even darker hair, sporting a prestigious horseshoe moustache. He had just thrown his towel over one shoulder and headed for the exit where the little group was coming in at the same moment.

“See ya guys… Heya man! Long time no see.”

“Boyd, how’s it going?”

Kevin raised his right for a handshake, but the man repulsed.

“I’m all wet and sweat!” he explained, and countered by holding up his clenched fist instead.

“Yah, like whenever you see me.” he flashed a wolfish grin, knocking the offered hand with his knuckles. Though the next thing invading his mind was whether _she_ heard the comment, and if so, what impression his jesting might have made on _her_. 

_But who the hell cares, damn it?!_ He scolded himself.

Boyd would have swept on briefly, but was taken aback by the not so familiar sight of the trailing visitors. The dumbfounded figure of the massive built man jaw-dropped couldn’t but evoke a lopsided grin on Kevin’s face. The human reactions didn’t help the turians’ fitting in either. Hasty glances, half-nods and muttered greetings were exchanged among the group. Most of the humans just kept their distance and observed the aliens from further away. However, Boyd’s spectacular facial hair did cause the rise of some brow fringes, too!

“This is the gym. Well, I don’t know if turians work out with similar machines, but you might give it a go if it’s your thing.” the 1st Lieutenant offered, while Kevin was shadowing them with growing discomfort over his repeated failures with the alien Specialist and – and maybe as a result of the former – feeling his role getting somewhat redundant beside Ante, who on the other hand seemed carrying on with the same, accommodating hospitality – no matter what.

“The Alliance does seem dedicated in maintaining morale and preparedness” Pretonus said with genuine admiration, giving the place a once-over with his team.

The hall was a lot smaller compared to that of _Arcadias_ – the vessel that transported them to the Exodus Cluster –, but still larger than theirs at the 17th Battalion camp on Oma Ker; albeit their home base housed a greater diversity of facilities for special and general role military training – a mental note of self-assurance that Zaalia made to herself.

“Well, we cannot complain” Ante agreed “We are in the fortunate position to be a relatively fresh branch of the Alliance, which of course doesn’t mean that we are any short of expertise,” he added “thanks to our high recruitment standards.”

“We would be glad to hear more about those, Lieutenant. If possible, I wonder if we can settle a meeting with your competent recruitment officers to discuss the selection procedures.”

“I don’t see why it wouldn’t be possible, but I’ll need to make some arrangements, sir.”

“I appreciate your assistance, Officer. However, can we see the actual combat training facilities? We’ll need to prepare the exercises for the Programme by tomorrow evening. We should make a thorough evaluation before laying down the tasks for your guys.”

“Of course! This way!”

Ante led them outside; Kevin fell behind then caught up, pacing beside the group with a flat mood. While aware of his duty, he felt offset; in his mind he would have been rather back to his warm office, seeing if any more information had come in on his case. The doors hissed.

He closed his jacket and threw himself against the wind.

The cold was now mixed with fine water vapour, too, but apart from her facial muscle’s automatic response, Zaalia hardly realized any of it. She was musing about the human’s words. No, not about the _‘sauna’_ thing or the gym or any of that… 

_Could he really hear her altering her sub-harmonics?_ Creating the wide range of voices with their complex vocal cords was unique to turians, as much as the feat of differentiating them… _Did she really give away herself like that? Did she give away herself at all anyway?!_

“Look at that!” Corporate Efrux called out to his people pointing at something in the distance.

“Wow, really everything _is_ hairy on this planet!” Private Nazario exclaimed “I mean… no offense.”

Kevin turned his attention where the Private was looking and gasped when noticed the huge black German shepherd dog dashing after a bouncing ball.

“Bagheera…”

The turians were watching the terrestrial beast with a slight excitement betrayed by their shifting about to get a better view, when a series of high pitch beeps shrieked through the air.

The dog stopped, ears perked up, losing all its interest in the ball. Kevin stood still, too.

The pair of shining eyes was staring at the group. Kevin suddenly felt way more exposed in the middle of the training ground than what would have been convenient now.

The signal sounded again before Zaalia could type away in haste to silence the notification. As she whipped out the omni-tool interface a message greeted her _‘Connection established. You have one new message’_.

“Freeze!” he yelled as the quadruped’s muscles twitched, and in an instant its whole body broke into a fast pacing trot in their direction.

“Bagheera, stop! Stop!” His trainer – a surprisingly thin man for the dog’s size, dressed in a black pullover and green camo-trousers – shouted to no avail. Noticing his words lost on Bagheera he dashed off after the canine, too.

The sight of the scurrying instructor was not one that assuaged Kevin in this situation. Torn between his responsibility and his survival instinct he apprehensively backed a few steps, but still spread his arms protectively, ushering the by-standing Nazario and Gerumis behind himself.

The four trapping legs closed the distance at speed; the turians shifted in their position uneasily. Zaalia eyed the charging furry creature with concern. She wasn’t sure how to react, or if she should have prepared for a counter-attack. And while it did not seem too dangerous compared to a varren, the humans’ anxious reaction somewhat startled her!

She soon found out why; the animal was swift and once reached them, its motion became quickly unpredictable. She realized the creature’s main weapon was its bite, and there was something bizarrely scary in the contrast of the black body of soft looking hair and the definitely sharp looking, flashing white fangs sitting in slimy pink flash.

Kevin rarely heard of the K-9 unit on a daily basis, but when he did, it was something about _Bagheera_ . The dog was notorious for its capabilities, but rumour also held it had its temperament. These thoughts fled almost as soon as they came when the canine abruptly bounced to a stop before him, barking wildly at the aliens; immediately probing for the smaller turian on his right side. The smoky coloured nose rapidly thrust towards Zaalia’s leg spur; Kevin was later surprised by his own quick – and unthoughtful – act of valour as he threw himself on the dog, embracing its neck with both hands in an attempt to pull it back, or drag it to the ground. _And God he needed all his might to do that!_

And this was also the moment when Zaalia could witness that dogs were in fact speedy and unpredictable foes in combat.

The 2nd Lieutenant was trying to hold on to the animal, while keeping its jaws away from his face, but no matter how strong he dug his fingers into the fur, its hide was shifting around just enough to give the beast plenty of freedom to slip out of his embrace again and again. Too fast to follow the events, all he felt was the series of painful impacts here and there on his body suffered from the dog, his several falls on the ground and at least on one occasion: meeting a turian knee.

Before anybody could have provided assistance to the wrestling officer and the turian female, Bagheera wriggled, spun himself around, kicked, scratched and snatched wherever he reached the human and the turian on their limbs until he broke free, barking and jumping around viciously, as he was taught: to hold the ‘suspects’ in check. 

In retrospect it became clear that Ante made no big hassle about coming to a decision when the whole thing started. Leastwise that’s what it seemed like as he floundered out from behind the group once the trainer was holding Bagheera’s scruff firmly.

The 2nd Lieutenant watched with eyes wide open, alert to the slightest move when three claws floated into his vision. He flinched as his head snapped at the offered hand, which belonged to the lean figure of Specialist Gerumis, but eventually reached out for it. She hauled him onto his feet.

“Are you alright?” The trainer yelled with what sounded like some serious concern in his voice.

“Yah… leastwise I’m alive. That wasn’t my finest moment was it?” he said, dusting the hair and mud off his trousers and jacket, his voice still shaking, just when he noticed the running red trickles on his wrist. “Should I worry about it?” he raised his bloody hands showing them to the trainer.

“Damn… he’s got all the vaccines, but damn right you should see the doc. I’m sorry man.” he muttered worriedly. ”I’m going to send his file to the infirmary.”

“Thanks. And never mind. I’ve gone through worse.” he lied; because he really couldn’t come up with memories about a more serious fight with an animal.

As time passed, and his shock settled, the pain at several points on his limbs started to spread out.

“Ehm… and he should, too.” the man pointed at Zaalia apprehensively, only now fully coming to terms with the awkward situation that his dog harassed the alien delegation. And only then he realized that it could get worse:

“I’ll make sure **_she’ll_ ** be looked at, too.” Kevin pointed out.

* * *

“A turian!”

“Yes, Doctor, all live. She needs to be patched up, and well, me too…”

But the very next second she was already paying full attention to the turian woman, leaving Kevin with the impression that he was talking to the wall.

“I’m Dr Samantha Stiller; it’s nice to meet you!” she said. 

The doctor was a short, brown haired, middle-aged woman. Not that Kevin didn’t do anything to avoid all things related to hospitals, but her cheerful attitude made visits to the medical room lightyears-better of an experience. 

The doctor didn’t seem drawn back by her patient being an alien. On the contrary she seemed eager to refresh her memories about her xeno-biology studies, given the rare chance. 

Kevin deemed her excitement as a positive sign though. He was a little worried on the way to the infirmary that the doctor would have issues with applying proper treatment to a turian. To dismiss his fears he trustingly interviewed the Specialist about her wounds, but to his relief, it seemed no more than a few bruises on her leg and arm.

“Specialist Zaalia Gerumis, a pleasure, Doctor.”

“Take a seat, I heard what happened.” she said, wasting no time “Good news for you, Blauhorn, that Bagheera’s got all the vaccines and he’s been on a medical check recently; however I need to ask a few questions from Ms Gerumis.”

“Fire away, Doctor.” she said amicably.

“Is it your first stay on a levo-amino life dominated world?

“No, I have visited several planets in the past.”

“Without pressure suits, too, right?”

“Exactly, Doctor.”

“Have you had allergic reactions?” 

“Not that I’m aware of.” she replied after giving it a brief thought.

“Do you have any medical condition?”

Zaalia’s eyes widened slightly; she seemed thinking again, but it was more like a fleeting distraction settling out on her face.

“No. No, I don’t.” 

“Okay.” The doctor said, looking into her eyes for a long second.

Dr Stiller stepped by the turian sitting on an elevated, steel framed examination bed covered in a disposable plastic cover, and gently raised her arm that she already cleared of her clothes’ sleeve. There were a few scratches crossing her light coloured plates, continuing to the more vividly coloured inside of her forearm. The difference between the toughness of the two surfaces was obvious by the much darker, bluish abrasions on her rust coloured skin, while her plates seemed almost intact. The doctor cleaned the scratches with antiseptics and applied a dextro-antibiotic band aid on the exposed area.

“Where else were you hurt?”

“Just my hands really; it’s nothing that I can’t handle. To be honest if it happened elsewhere, I would have not even considered seeking assistance.”

“That would be a bad idea.” The doctor crossed her arms “Infections are no joke and I know the turian immune system is considered highly resistant among the Citadel species, but foreign molecules may cause unforeseen complications if not handled early on. It’s my general advice for you, Ms Gerumis, but I would also ask you to stay safe and seek immediate medical assistance if you or any of your team are wounded; you are my responsibility while you are staying at our compound. I would like to hand you back in good health.”

“Thank you, Doctor. That is kind from you. I’ll be careful.” her mandibles flared into a smile and nodded.

Dr Stiller mirrored the expression “You can get off the bed” she said as she turned to take notes on her datapad.

Zaalia jumped off the ledge and let out a muffled moan as she arrived. She regained her composure in no time, but the doctor spun around nailing her with the question:

“Did he reach your leg?”

“Not unless you mean the Lieutenant.”

Doctor Stiller turned and regarded Kevin with an embarrassingly accusing face. 

“I lost my balance!” he said sheepishly.

Kevin could have sworn he saw the doctor shaking her head in disbelief, before she returned to her alien patient. 

“What world are you coming from?”

“I was born on Invictus, but grew up on Palaven – so to speak.”

“Ah, now I see! No doubt you are tough, Ms Gerumis. Do your parents still live there?”

Kevin cleared his throat: 

“I’m bleeding…”

Zaalia regarded him from the corner of her eyes then answered anyway.

“My mother is from Palaven. I think she would still prefer living there, but they moved for the sake of my father’s job and they stay for the same reason.”

“Excuse me!”

“You have, like five litres to go, Blauhorn. You’re going to make it.” The doctor strode up to him finally.

“And what about _‘immediate assistance’_?!”

“You are not allergic aren’t you?”

“I have hay fever!”

“That’s all right.”

“That’s all right?!” he mouthed indignantly, as his voice petered out when she applied a chilly, stinging patch of soaking cotton-wool on the bruise decorating his forehead.

“That’s going to be a bump.”

Dr Stiller patched him up quickly as well. He’d got his skin injured on his left palm – probably when falling on the ground – and gained a few deeper lesions caused by the claws and teeth of the canine on his arm and shoulder, but as the doctor noted, Bagheera was definitely not that determined to attack, otherwise he would have borne some much uglier and more visible consequences now.

“Don’t try to make myself feel less of a hero, Doctor.”

“Oh, I don’t think it’s in my power, Blauhorn!” she laughed lightly “You are done. Keep the bands on for the rest of the day and come back tomorrow for a change. That will probably do it for you Ms Gerumis, but you might need an extra tour” she said to the human “If any of you notice inflammation around the affected area, or you have fever – anything abnormal – report to the infirmary immediately!”

“Will do, Doc.” Kevin stood by the door glancing through his new acquisitions.

Zaalia sidled by him, casting a thankful look at Dr Stiller.

“Thank you, Doctor.”

“It was my pleasure! I hope to see you while you are here… well, with less injuries involved.”

“That’s what I hope, too” her mandibles dropped to reveal her smile.

In a minute they fled the medical complex, walking side-by-side in the howling wind; their necks drawn in to shelter behind their collar. Now he was alone with the turian again, but talking to her felt ever more complicated. He glanced at the Specialist from the corner of his eye; he couldn’t decide if her sullen features could be blamed on her dislike for him, or the weather itself, but it surely helped him to assume a tenacious position of not taking the initiative this time. 

Then he quickly wiped the ridiculous pout off his mouth.


	6. Implications

**Chapter VI.**

#  **Implications**

**_SAIA HQ, London, Earth [Solar System – Local Cluster] – 16:30 UTC – 2182.11.09 CE_ **

**  
** Zaalia was boiling some water in the kitchenette, in clear view of Corporal Efrux relaxing on a sofa opposite.

“So what?” he spoke up.

“Hmm?” She spun around with a seed filled dextro energy bar hanging from her mouth.

“What’s up? You know why I’m asking.”

Her mandibles nimbly managed the morsel into her mouth that she swallowed soon after. She did not hurry; hung her head, fiddling with the heater, but to her misfortune the water was still resting calmly in the plastic kettle.

“I’m listening… Problems at home?”

“So to speak.”

“And who’s to blame?”

“It’s not that simple.” she waved, pausing in her speech, but she knew she could not baffle Efrux easily like that “Okay, it’s mostly me, I think.”

“How so?”

“I am trying to cut us some slack to move about, see places, have fun and you know… just hang out with each other. But even during our last time I wasn’t able to get but some liberty days staying on base.”

“That’s how we roll. Everybody must respect that _;_ _including your man_.”

Zaalia gave him a grudging glance.

“Of course; but I promised we’d finally have the chance to wind down and have a good week off after Namakli; I had it all laid out: agreed on swaps, replacements… just to blow it again when Merunn basically recalled me… I can’t expect Jan to wait forever; I should be around! 

Efrux splayed his mandibles in disappointment, while she continued.

“Being stationed on Oma Ker has its ups, but it also ties my hands – sort of.” She ambled by the window, looking into the darkness above the parade ground; concern clouded her facial plates. “I don’t know if I’ll ever figure it out,” she groaned, closing her eyes, pinching her nose in frustration.

“It’s a matter of time...”

“…And space, yeah.” her voice flanged with an off trill “Now I’ve got both working against me. We haven’t seen each other like, for a month. It’s hard to provide comfort like this, you see?”

“When you say that, why does it feel like it’s only you who seem eager to  _ give _ while there’s only  _ demand _ on the other side?”

“That’s not true.” she claimed quietly “We’ve been through a lot for – Spirits – how long? Five years! Through thick and thin and… and if you imply to give up on…”

“Look, if you ever ditch Jansan, I’d be glad to provide comfort. There, I said it.” Efrux flashed a wolfish grin.

“You wish,” she looked at him sharply.

“Just saying that I would hit on that meat,” he said, shrugging nonchalantly.

Zaalia winced in disgust.

“You are sickening me!”

“It’s my odd proclivity. I was born this way.”

“If that’s all you wanted I may even show you the door!”

“Easy, Gerumis; I don’t want to hurt you. I just don’t see your life going anywhere, which are big words if even  _ I  _ notice it. Not my business I know, but we’ve known each other for a while and I can put your recent and former self on the scale…” he imitated, raising his hands like trays, tilting them left and right. He looked up into her eyes “…and I see the old Gerumis was more determined.

“We’re getting older.”

“I protest! By this measurement it’s only  _ you  _ getting older.”

“Then what  _ should _ I do, Demian?” the kettle beeped and switched off; she poured the water into two mugs.

“What are your plans?”

“Mine? I…”

“No. You two; what are the plans of you two guys?”

She moved to hand one mug to the Corporal, but the question found her unprepared with an answer. She hadn't thought about it, just lived with the chances and took everything granted outside the military – she knew if anything went wrong, the 17 th was like a safety net catching her; when she needed some retreat, the Battalion gave her the walls to withdraw into without the need of imploring for shelter at her parents. She didn’t need to plan her life ahead aside from her career – leastwise not yet.

“Thanks.” He took the mug from her hand and dipped the little bag of dried spices in it a few times musingly.

“I… heh; what are our plans?” she laughed with a slight taste of bitterness into the glooming night, stepping by the window then she turned back to the Corporal. “I guess we’ll grow old together. All right, I know where you're going with this! That our relationship is too loose for your taste and I should dump it like it was trash! Well, I do have plans – other plans! Once we’re back to Oma Ker, I’m taking my days off  _ as planned _ , and we’re off to a two-week trip on Kahje then unwinding for a further few days on Illium, too. I’ll turn the news feeds off, throw my omni-tool out the window and I tell you what: we’ll have hell of a good time!”

Efrux raised one browplate as he was watching her passionately defending her point. When she stopped, her mandibles still twitched with excitement.

“And yeah, we’ll have hell of a good time…  _ many – consecutive – times _ .” she added with a sneer; a flame flaring in her eyes.

“Wow Gerumis you’ve really got some steam built up there. Jansan’s really gonna need to pull the socks up!

“Well, it remains up to your imagination.” 

“I’ll have plenty of time to entertain myself till you tell me how it was for real.” 

“I can’t promise you’ll be safe from my moods till that,” she retorted with an impish glance at Efrux.

“No worries here. I guess I’m fine while you’re stuck taking it out on the human.”

“Whom?” She hung for a moment. “Oh, him. He is just… annoying!” Zaalia imitated clawing the mug in her grip.

“I know you hate when someone tells you this, and that’s why I’m going to say it: You were acting all bitchy today.”

Her eyes flashed at her comrade.

“Just because I’m more of a man than most of you guys, it doesn’t mean I can’t have my moments.

“You know what I think? I think you like him.” He returned a snarky grin at her.

Zaalia shot him with a piercing look.

“Yeah; I think you’ve been really worn out for the last few weeks. You’ve got some household issues? Okay, but it…

“…must not compromise my duty,” she said in unison with him.

“Yeah, but my point is that it should not grow over you. You're trying to keep your composure too hard and you close out the rest of the world in your fear that it would eat itself into your hide through the cracks on your plates when you are broken.”

“I’m not broken!”

“Then ‘when you soften’; whatever. I’m not saying you should give up your recent life. I just say you should relax a bit. We're on paid holiday – almost. The human has nothing to do with whatever’s on your heart. And his job is to entertain us. Damn, don’t make his work harder. We are also here to make a good impression!”

Zaalia was gazing with empty eyes through the window. She was mulling over the Corporal’s words. She’d known him since Academy, but at the time they were merely comrades – more accurately he was one of the assistant drill instructors. They joined the 17 th Battalion together, and she transferred to Special Operations only two years after Efrux.

So she didn’t feel nervous about sharing her feelings with the Corporal, what more, she felt tempted to squelch him by throwing a “ _ wiseass _ ” at his head, but instead, she counted to ten.

“Wiseass.”

“Glad to be of service.” He stretched then rose to his feet. “It was a pleasure, Zaal, see you tomorrow.”

“You are not coming to the canteen?”

“Nay, I have to run through the programme schematics once more. But you know what? Maybe I pop in later.”

She stood in the middle of the living room, watching the Corporal crossing the threshold. 

Then she was alone.

She raised her arm, triggering the omni-tool’s interface, gazing at the newest incoming video message. It was yet to be opened.

* * *

Zaalia was not amused by Earth weather so far. Knowing the canteen was located just within a short walking distance she opted not to bring any bulky or heavy clothes, also sacrificing her protection against the tireless wind.

With her chin snug in her collar, she paced quickly towards the two-storey building where the lights were still on. She grabbed the massive metal handle and tore up the door, fighting against the waking blast of escaping air, as if even the draft wanted to close the cold night outside.

She glanced around the room, still acclimatising, blinking rapidly to wipe the condensed humidity away from her sight. The first thing that caught her attention was the comforting warm air that enveloped her face and hands immediately and only then she noticed the rhythmic beat and the noise of casual conversations form the several tables dispersed in the spacious room, which was saturated with dim, warm light. 

Seemingly no one saw her arrival. Rubbing her hands, she slowly walked in, mustering the chattering groups of people. Clearly the main attraction was the three turians; most of the about thirty members of SAIA personnel present were eyeing the aliens from their seats; however a good number of them were showing a more direct interest. Flanging voices sounded from behind a smaller crowd of humans, standing in a half circle around the table where the aliens were sitting, or lounging on extra chairs dragged there. She slumbered closer.

“...or there was this occasion when Gaian was assigned to protect the backdoor for the audition chamber.“ Pretonus explained vehemently. He visibly enjoyed the attention. As he spoke he slightly leant right, pointing at the Corporal in question. 

Zaalia and a few other pairs of eyes followed the gesture instinctively. Gaian did not hear a voice; his immense figure towered above a strange, thick table with bars sticking out of its long sides, with three more human bystanders.

“So he got clear orders: nobody passes here until the audition ends! And if someone, he took it to the heart! So, he was standing in the corridor armed to the teeth, when a meagre old man dressed in a pretty vestment hurried his way...”

The humans were listening intensely, all eyes pointing at the Sergeant.

“You know, the stoical person Hadriol is, without a bat of an eye he held out a hand, stopping the man in his tracks simply like: ‘No’. Poor blighter halted, looked up at him – which earns a strain in the neck already for anyone – starting a hopeless battle of wills:”

_ “Son, I should be in that hall within a minute!” _

_ “That’s all right, but not through this door.” _

_ “But they are waiting for me to start the hearing!” _

_ “Then I suggest you take another route.” _

_ “Spirits, do you know who I am?!” _

_ “No sir.” _

_ “I am Praetor Jutius!” _

_ “It’s an honour, sir.” _

_ “So... may I?” _

_ “No.” _

_ “Son, for Spirits’ sake,  _ **_what do I need to do_ ** _ to let me go through that door behind you?!” _

Pretonus lulled in the story glancing around the audience before quoting Hadriol’s alleged reply in a deep, impassionate voice, which had become an adage among the team since:

_ “...Workout, workout and workout... sir.”  _

General laughter broke amongst the people gathered around the table. 

“I believe that’s also how he got his transfer to the Ops.” Mikhailovich added grinning.

“Nah, that’s another one...!” Pretonus waved his hand and set out for another tale-telling. 

Zaalia just smiled at the old story. A man clad in green camo working uniform just picked up the turian woman loitering behind him.

“Oh, hello! Would you like to sit?”

“I’m okay, thanks.”

“Drinks are on the house, grab what you like!” Ante yelled, sitting between Corporal Nazario and Pretonus, already gripping a mug craning his head to establish eye contact with Zaalia.

She nodded with a smile. The human beside her pointed at the bar where she could snatch some refreshers.

With a newfound can of  _ Elcor Blast X _ between her talons, she had been strolling amidst the tables until finally arrived at the four men who were firmly holding onto and wildly tousling a series of rods hanging out from the four legged console they surrounded. She warily hovered over the head of the table.

Now she could see what the fuss was about. Gaian seemed to be teamed up with the man on his left, and was desperately trying to shepherd a little glowing green ball into the net of the opposite team at the end of the table to his right, while his teammate was defending theirs with little human figurines impaled on parallel crossing bars, placed intermittently in rows. The whole setup reminded her of the miniaturized version of some real life field game.

She tugged her claw under the metal tab and opened the can with a giveaway hiss. Kevin noticed the turian lady only now, glancing at her, but his momentous recognition cost him dearly; his hand lagged for a second letting the ball speed by his row of foosmen, his mistake marked by the blasting ovation of the opposing team.

“Oops,” she froze in her move.

“Oh man!” the liaison officer’s partner with the memorable moustache complained, raising his eyes on the ceiling.

“Well, congrats guys,” Kevin uttered. “How about a switch?”

“I’ll pass. But thanks guys, it was a real fight!” Boyd added, shaking hands with the opponents. “Not bad for a first-timer turian,” he flicked a compliment at Gaian. “I also dare to vouch for my illustrious table football successor here,” he said, indicating Zaalia.

“Excuse me?” Her eyes widened.

“Hey Gerumis, grab the rods over there!”

“I can’t... I mean I don’t even know how to play!”

“Hold on tight, push, pull and twist. You should know; or now is your chance to practise!” Hadrian flared his mandibles into a wolfish grin.

Kevin made a faint attempt to curb his snicker, but Zaalia made no secret of her smile. It was only that baleful spark in her eye that worried the lieutenant a little.

She cornered the table and assumed her place beside the human, while Kevin’s former teammate was now standing in front of him.

“Hi. It’s James.”

“Zaalia.” She looked up and gripped the offered hand with an explicit nod.

“Okay, is everyone ready?” Kevin glanced around. Three faces bearing sharpened attention sufficed for an answer, “All right! Banzai!”

He pulled hard on a mechanical lever that spun a ball and shot it right in the middle of the field through a hole from the bowels of the table.

“What the...?” Zaalia grumbled trying to catch up with the pace.

After a short while Kevin finally moved in to offer his help.

“Hey, let me show you. Like this!” He tried to provide some guidance seeing the turian woman’s struggles.

He reached out to Zaalia’s midfield row handle and cagily pulled closer to her in order to demonstrate a flawless pass from the defence figurines, neatly trapping the ball with the attackers; he held it for a second just to make a quick sideway swipe, delivering a pass to the other side, consequently firing the ball into the net at speed.

“Wow!” Zaalia yelled.

“Hahah, yeah!” He swung his arms into the air. “Well, that was pretty unexpected...,” he murmured to himself when he returned to the rods.

The game went on with the players’ doubled resolve to gain greater advantage and to catch up, respectively. In a few minutes Hadrian scored three goals and took the lead, but Kevin turned the game around once more in a brief time with four to three. He definitely felt their defences growing stronger with each strike as Zaalia was slowly getting the hang of it, and he couldn’t deny her effective contribution to his scores. Her eyes were darting back and forth; she felt excitement was growing over her. Kevin peered at her briefly. Her face was showing intense focus – so occupied he could actually see her finely curved chin dropping slightly... In the very next moment she made a spectacular save with the keeper! 

Kevin’s eyes snapped at the action. He watched the feat jaw-dropped, before finding his words in the waking crossfire of hollers.

“Come on, pass to midfield!” he cried out.

“Defend the right side! Defend the right!”

“Play it from the wall!”

“You’re gonna screw it up Geru...!” Gaian sneered.

“Can it guys!” she piped up fierily.

The specialist ogled the opposing goal for a moment then her eyes flitted to Hadrian; he was standing a tad  _ too close _ – just at the  _ right _ range!

Her whole body flinched as her muscles tensed.

Crouching over the field she flicked and pulled the handle swiftly, getting clear of Gaian’s attackers and successfully passing to her other row of defenders. Then... with a wild sideway swipe she spun the bar forcefully – thrusting it out to its full extent on the other side of the table – and bombarded a colossal goal across the pitch! The glowing green ball was spinning in the net long after the powerful shot.

“That’s it!” Zaalia cried out with a toothful grin.

It was really an offensive that left the fellow players breathless for one or two reasons.

The Corporal’s tormented expression was probably pretty accurate of his feelings; it was only his posture that could tell more: doubled over by the table, opposite the Specialist, he seemed quite protective about his groin at the exact height of the control rods – even if a bit late.

The only reason Kevin’s laughter wasn’t honest was his hard time breathing while assuming a similar pose as the turian man; the memory of the specialist’s lightning fast elbow still living vividly in the pit of his stomach.

“You should try ice-hockey too some time,” Kevin groaned.

“I give up! Just spare me!” James, the last man standing raised his hands, whinnying at the two comrades in distress and the small but definitely fierce turian woman.

“Ah, Spirits!” she whirled around when finally she took in the whole scene “That wasn’t deliberate! I’m so...” she patted the human on the back apprehensively.

“I’m all right, no worries.” he rattled faintly, actually worrying Zaalia more; she hooked an arm under his shoulder and saw him to the nearest unoccupied seat, sitting down opposite.

The crippling sensation slowly dissipated, his view clearing again. A pair of bright green eyes was staring at him.

_ God, those pupils looked huge now!  _ Unlike the males, her stare resembled less of a bird and more of a cat. Anyhow, he had to admit, those peepers were quite nice looking  _ for an alien _ .

She had been leaning forward propped on her elbows, and only receded now that he finally raised his head and faced her.

“Better?”

“Yah, we can say that,” he cleared his throat in an attempt of changing back to his normal tone “Hey that was hell of a goal!” he said cheerfully, lingering over the two green gems.

“Thanks.” Her eyes fell.

“Hey, high five!”

Zaalia looked up again. Kevin was holding a hand up with his palm facing her. She tilted her head furrowing; then she uncertainly raised her hand in the same fashion at the Lieutenant’s expectant look… he then swung his hand forth over the table, clapping against her palm – in a rather awkward way as she remained motionless.

“Oh well, must be a human thing.”

“Erm, we have this… sort of, but with the fist, so as to not claw someone accidentally – I assume. But… five?”

Kevin held up his right and let his waving fingers answer.

“Oh!” a smile of recognition escaped her lips.

“Just let me catch my breath; but in the meantime why don’t you go back and play? You’re über awesome at this!”

“I was lucky,” she smiled, “but they do say I have good hand-eye coordination,” she perked her head up.

“I for one assure you: your hand coordination alone kicks ass!” he coughed theatrically.

“I’m sorry about that, Lieutenant. However, with your sacrifice I did score a goal on the opposition.” she shrugged.

“Yah, that’s true; although with a teammate like you, one does need no opponent!”

They both broke into a broad grin.

“That was a real sublime move! If you want to express your inclinations any more, my body is ready!” Gaian called out to her in a still reedy voice after recuperating from Zaalia’s  _ striking _ shot “Another round?” he indicated the game.

She seemed pondering for a second then she turned to her colleague and waved dismissively.

“One should quit at the peak,” she eyed Hadrian slyly.

The turian didn’t remain without fellow players for long. Kevin raised from his seat to slap his hand together with James’ and Hadrian’s as a courtesy to thank the game before the ops beckoned another guy and a woman sporting the same uniform as the rest and carried on with the fun, leaving the liaison officer and the specialist to themselves.

Zaalia took a sip of her soda.

“How can you drink that?” Kevin poked the can.

“It’s achiral. They designed it this way so any species can enjoy it, which of course means no nutrients. Good for refreshment but don’t expect anything more from it.”

“No, I mean it tastes like leftover candies in the pocket of a synthetic jump-suit after a 24 hours drill in the rain – which then you drink right from that pocket.”

“My type of drink!” she added with a roguish smile swigging once more from the liquid. 

As they were sitting like this, all attention was drawn to the TV on the wall as somebody turned its volume up. The Alliance News Network logo flew across the screen before the anchor woman and short video clips played presenting the events she was talking about:

_ …beside several Earth capitals, sister protests flared on Alliance worlds Terra Nova, Bekenstein, and even the Citadel, where protestors gathered before the Alliance Embassy to express their disagreement on the recently passed modifications on the Galactic Civil Rights Code, which – besides other measures – controls gaining Alliance citizenship, and official recognition of interspecies domestic partnerships. Diana Allers is reporting from Milgrom. Diana? _

_ “Good evening! I’m standing right before the City Hall, where a surprisingly large crowd of humans and quite a few asari gathered after amendments to the Galactic Civil Right Code had been announced. And here is Carol Whitmore, who organized the protest. Carol, what drew these people to the streets?” _

_ “It is the Alliance’s arrogance and close minded hypocrisy! The fact that the article passed legislation ensures that the topic can be swiped under the rug for another decade or more, and they can keep us from having proper marriage in the eyes of the law!” _

_ “It is a shame that the Alliance discriminates against fellow Citadel citizens by denying the spiritual union of two souls,” _ an asari added as she leaned into the frame and curled an arm around the woman’s waist.

“Damn, man!” Boyd snarled “I’m telling you if it grows any larger we’ll be set on alert for the rest of the week. I can’t believe those idiots can’t stay at home… no, of course they had to organize some wise-ass demonstration during the Premier League!” 

His comment was followed by the applause and agreeing growls of the humans in the hall. 

Zaalia turned her attention back to the liaison officer.

“So what about the hand-shaking?” 

“Excuse me, ma’am?”

“I see it’s catching on really, but it’s coming from humanity. It’s that... intuitively I just wouldn’t reach out to let someone I don’t know have a hold on me."

“That’s the point: it’s mutual,” he explained “I don’t really know where it originates, but it’s an ancient thing; and is definitely deeply rooted in many Earth-cultures!”

“But what’s the purpose?”

“What do you think?”

“Well,” her brow plates puckered into a crease thoughtfully “I came up with a theory on it...”

“And what’s that?” he asked with honest interest.

“It seems to me – but I might be wrong here,” she interposed, “that by offering your hand you symbolically kind of... handicap yourselves while also giving both parties some advantage in an eventual attack.”

“You are actually not far from the truth.”

“But you also squeeze the hand a bit,” she continued with her argument seeing that she was on the right track. “That could be some demonstration of strength.” her eyes flitted on Kevin, looking for confirmation. He blinked as such, smiling to himself – and maybe not only to himself – as she carried on “But it must be sublime, or something you extrapolate, deducing implications about one’s physique – ‘cause I’m sure you could do it more forcefully if you wanted. That suggests delicate sensory capabilities...”

His brows shot up and he was grinning now.

“Yah, great observation! You’d not be the first to tell me I’ve got hands of a gynaecologist; I might have just missed my calling.” He wiggled his digits, but he took Zaalia’s rolling eyes as a sign that a quick clarification was timely. “Truth is: I highly doubt that me or any other human would derive anything about your strength through a handshake. It is more about your personality.” 

“Hmm; then maybe it also signals how much one deems the other a worthy opponent, or... a dangerous one?”

“What do you mean?”

“Maybe if you find the other person out of your league... erm, that is not really the right word; ah how to put it?” she murmured “So if they are below your  _ tier _ , or you might find them too menacing, you’d avoid giving them an obvious advantage such as a hand,” she chuckled apprehensively; eventually finding it better to lapse into silence.

“Why do you think that?” he drew his brows together.

“Well, in the morning, you skipped me kind of deliberately...” she said with a slight giggle to lift the weight of her words; however she was more than intrigued to find out the reason.

“Ah, verdammt!” he slapped his forehead “It was my bad. I’m sorry if I hurt you with that, ma’am!

“No, no! You didn’t!” she said hastily, noticing that she might have been too reproachful.

“It is just we have this habit here that only men practise it as a daily greeting. I don’t know why... it’s been so long it feels natural.”

Zaalia nodded rapidly, her jaw tightly closed.

“You know, a handshake is basically a sign of good will... or oftentimes the lack of an ill one,” he explained “Since most humans are more able with their right hand, that’s always been the weapon-wielding one. So by a handshake - which is properly done with your right – our ancestors demonstrated that they held no weapon... a dagger or anything.”

“One could still kill with bare hands though...” she mused, grazing her mandible.

Her interpose distracted Kevin for a moment; his eyes narrowed, regarding her innocent, ruminating look. And his eyes immediately snapped upon her considerable talons.

“Yah, I believe it doesn’t mean much of a difference for a turian...”

Her eyes flicked at him. A mischievous smile crept across her face.

“But, why are the different types?”

“Erm… like what?”

Zaalia involuntarily raised her hand to demonstrate, which Kevin instinctively reacted to by reaching out to help her to do so. It only felt awkward once they were already holding hands...

* * *

**_SAIA HQ, London, Earth [Solar System – Local Cluster] – 08:30 UTC – 2182.11.11 CE_ **

Kevin was staring into space, grazing his fingers and palm together absently...

_ “...then there is this version,” he slapped his palm against the turian’s. “Yah, that’s it, relaxed like that! The louder the clap is the better!” _

_ After the first uncertain moments when Zaalia and Kevin had unexpectedly found themselves holding each other’s hand in the crossfire of ogling SAIA personnel, Kevin decided to save the situation by rehearsing all the different handshakes and greetings with the turian woman, whichever just entertained her curiosity – and she readily consented to be saved this time. _

_ Her hand was warm; warm... and surprisingly soft! He mused why he failed to notice it earlier, but all this didn’t matter that much now. It was an all-new, slightly uncanny at first, then increasingly exciting experience. As his hand grabbed hers – quite a few times, sojourning over some words of explanation, he grew more and more tempted to explore.  _

_ His thumb slightly shifted up quarter of an inch to feel the embossed ridge of her thicker layer of carapace on the back of her hand. He expected a dry and rigid surface, like crust on a wound, but to his surprise it felt more like the skin slightly hardened by repetitive friction – like that of a guitarist’s finger – although, still maintaining its natural peachy tone and flexibility. As his finger repositioned, he wandered over a few scale-like islands, returning to the more delicate part that covered her palm and other soft corners of her body – he concluded – seeing the same looking textures around her eyes and down to her neck, playing in a rust reddish-brown colour. Her grip was resolute and firm. The turian’s three fingers were making up for their number with their thickness that felt lying a bit alien in his hold; especially in face of the contradiction that aside from their relative bulk similar to his own thumb, they were shaped really femininely. With her carapace hiding her sinews, the otherwise stringy features of the turian body could not overtake the supple feel of her right holding onto his lingering grip. _

_ She did not pull away. _

“So Kevin, how was the weekend? These rumours reared their head about your certain  _ intimate _ relationship.”

Roland watched him from behind his desk. Thomas leaned back in his chair shooting his eyes at Kevin just like the rest of the group with casual vivacity.

He had been sitting in his chair for a while, but only now paid attention. His eyes widened only slightly, but he could not help the surge of shiver passing through his body.

“Excuse me, what?!”

“You are so busted,” Sarah nodded at him with a straight face further increasing his sudden wake of discomfort.

“Scuttlebutt has it you’re lying with dogs,” Roland put in.

“Oh? Ooh!” he uttered in relief “You know, if life gives you lemons make lemonade.” he replied, settling back in his seat.

“Heh, yes; and how were our guests? Especially the guy that got injured?”

“Well it was the  _ girl _ who got a few scratches, but nothing serious. Bagheera wasn’t really attacking us... he was rather just keeping us in check.” He did not want to cause more trouble to his K9 colleague. He had probably gotten his rebuke from his superiors already, and oddly, he was partly thankful for the intermezzo; the way it turned out finally was kind of worth the inconvenience.

“Oh, the turians had a female with them? I didn’t realize... I haven’t even seen one in my life!” Montgomery exclaimed in astonishment.

“Or you just never thought you’d seen one,” a tall bald man, Jim Cavanaugh, sitting a few chairs away taunted; the Captain’s comment followed by giggles in the room.

“And how about  _ Operation Offshoot _ ? Have we got any news?” he returned to Kevin.

“Yah, we’ve got some interesting intel coming in from Bekenstein Police on Sunday.”

“Let’s get back to it after the debriefing,” Roland added and his attention wandered over to Captain Torres, “Gerard, have you met the Quick Space reps?

“Oh yes. We had cigars and cognac as you could imagine and agreed in no time on the clearance approvals. I gave them my contact and let them know they could ring us anytime about the employees’ security screening. They’re going to talk to me as you wished.” he explained gesticulating with his usual, relaxed demeanour “Mr Carradine – the CEO – was really accommodating. The old lad even insisted inviting our office for a reception some time. Of course I told him ‘we’ll see’.” he leant back in his seat, flaring his arms.

“Perfect!” Roland clapped his hands together satisfied “Gerard, make sure you’ve got the names and IDs of the technicians this week and get the required specs and guides sent to our IT Department. The director will personally kick our arse if the project slips on us. The ministry wants to start extended testing of the network early next year, which means that we are in the privileged yet unenviable situation that we’re going to be the ones running the system first. Damn, lucky thing they set up their HQ in the neighbourhood.” ha peered out the window and indeed, the Quick Space office-block towering proudly above the surrounding buildings was just a few klicks away in bee-line.

“Consider it done, boss!” he showed his thumb up.

“Meng, you help him run the checks with the Evaluations Division.”

“Yes, sir!” the man beside Gerard replied firmly.

“Anything else?” Montgomery glanced over the group. They remained silent, “Fine! Come on everybody, off to work! Kevin, Tom, you two stay.”

The group dissipated in no time, everybody heading to their offices or out to the field; Kevin and Tom stayed sat. When the room became vacated the Lieutenant started his referral behind closed doors.

“I flagged our request as ‘Immediate’; good thing the guys on Bekenstein took us seriously.” 

He opened his omni-tool and typed away for a few seconds before a holographic display appeared above the oval table that they had been sitting around; a personal profile manifested above it.

“Lars Pittman; thirty-four years old, born on Arcturus Station to two civil servants working on the same station. His most recent location was registered in Milgrom, Bekenstein. The guy seemed clear: his most serious offence was ‘parking disorderly’ and a few speeding tickets until... we’ve got his service records from Bekenstein Police. What’s interesting to us is that he used to work for the Bekenstein Police Intelligence Department as Chief Inspector of Clandestine Operations. He left the force four years ago.”

The bluish and orange holographs changed in accordance with Kevin’s omni-tool screen, now showing a sheet extracted from the original message.

“This gentleman lives in the suburbs of the capital in a fifty-story flat.” he pointed at the data and supplemented images about the area downloaded from the extranet “Plenty of people to ask around, yet the best place to lay low for a longer period, considering how  _ much _ those people usually care about each other. And from the old look of the complex I’m still not convinced the residents’ data has been updated by the building’s servers.”

“Let’s do an environment study in the neighbourhood. See what we can find out about the man.” Roland ordered.

“Will do,” Kevin nodded “But that’s not all. I ran some checks on the data acquired on Kingsley’s shipments;” the display changed accordingly. “We spotted a batarian contact expected to receive two shipments of ‘cooling rods’ during the course of the coming month. The company has valid Citadel registration and authorized for trading in unrefined agricultural goods, livestock and... biological waste.

Tom and Montgomery both raised their eyebrows.

“I hope they use separate containers.” Kevin let out a rueful chuckle at their concern. “Kingsley left a note beside the entry marking a contact person called Charn, who also seems to be a co-proprietor of the company. He has been unknown to us till now.”

“Is there a connection between the spacer guy and the batarian contact?” Roland enquired.

“Not so far. We would know more once we talked to the Milgrom Police.”

“Anything suspicious about the trading firm?” Montgomery scrutinized the floating shipping manifest above the table.

“I think an agricultural company may have better things to spend on than cooling rods. I mean what do you use them for in farming?”

“Not farming. They are traders. It’s not extraordinary to use coolants to keep the goods fresh.” Tom put in.

“Wait. Aren’t cooling rods for nuclear reactors?”

“Those are ‘control rods’. Cooling rods are like oversized thermal clips. They are passive, thus doesn’t require power for their endothermic reaction with the environment, which makes them particularly useful for transportation not to break the cold chain. However, they decay over time. A good 200 kilowatt-hour piece can keep a one cubic metre cargo considerably cool for a year or more.” 

“How do you know this stuff?” Kevin frowned at his colleague.

“My father-in-law is in the thermal tech business.” Tom shrugged casually.

“Aha… Okay, but what do you do with dozens of tons of those rods in a company specialized in trading living things and trash, especially if it loses efficiency? This amount would fit more for an industrial distributor firm.”

“Well, that’s a question I can’t pick at either.”

Roland, who had been listening till now, interrupted their banter.

“This might as well be just a false alarm, but considering our initial info on possible terrorist links regarding Kingsley we better check this one.”

Kevin and Tom turned their attention at the commander and nodded.

“Make sure you'll have prepared a clandestine survey by the next week to establish if there is more to these shipments and the batarians” Montgomery leant forward, regarding his officers for a long moment. “Somebody is having a trip back to Bekenstein.”

* * *

Kevin was sauntering down the aisle to his office when Gerard coming opposite gripping a datapad firmly intercepted him.

“Hey, Kevin!” he called out to him “Out of the dragon’s lair already?”

“Actually the dragon’s lair is yet to be seen.” He jabbed his thumb at the ceiling, towards O’Bryan’s office.

“So how is the case going?”

“Got to confess, it’s pretty good!”

“Quite some resources you have put into play so far! Three targeted hits on Kingsley’s shipments, series of police raids... You’ve got to be breathing down the neck of that cell.”

Kevin was listening to him with growing amusement then eventually waved him down.

“Hah, no man; The two busts on his freighters were my deeds indeed, but the pilot was mere coincidence.”

“And how about the increasing number of police raids and those transportation cleansing measures you mentioned?” Gerard folded his arms suspiciously.

“Are you kidding? Filing a request for a full scale Alliance blockade on Bekenstein would not even have passed the Chief, let alone the Brass! I could sooner organize a friendly war-game with the krogan!” Kevin cackled waggishly “I merely read the news and checked the police databases for some trends on recent police actions.” he explained heartily “We request them to make a few near-hits around our friend and I’m telling you, he will see my story confirmed with each and every posting security officer just glancing in his direction,” his grin made no secret about priding himself in the execution of the operation so far.

A muffled yet pretty audible roar of a driller resonated through the walls.

“What the hell are they doing?”

“Building the server room?” Gerard shrugged.

“Ah, really,” Kevin drew his brows together – that sounded plausible “And how is  _ your _ project?”

“I’ve said it all basically back there. Quick Space is our best alternative to have our own state-of-the-art secure comms system without the need to rely upon alien companies. As good as it sounds we are also their biggest investors so far; so they're out of their skin to make us feel like a valued customer. They are setting up the infrastructure for the hub on-base as quickly as possible…”

Suddenly a simple musical tone emanated from the room. The office phone rang; it was a terminal placed in the middle of the office. Kevin flipped his omni-tool on and routed the call to his implanted earpiece.

“Yeah?”

“Hello? It’s Feather,” a charming female voice crooned. 

Kevin’s eyes rounded briefly then he broke out in a light laughter.

“Ah, hey, long time no talk eh, buddy? Back from the sunny islands? It was much lovelier than this hail we’ve got here, eh? Why not telling me what’s up with Jenny and the kids!”

The noise from below whizzed up again. Gerard winced and waved a hand at Kevin, pointing at his omni watch. He peered at Torres from the corner of his eye and waved back mouthing, “See ya.” Kevin waited a bit then walked up to the door and shut it.

“What are you d...?! How?” he involuntarily looked around in the room, lowering his voice “You hacked into our network?! It’s an internal line,” he hissed, leaning closer to the device, forgetting that only he could hear her in his own head.

The voice on the other side chuckled.

“Be reasonable. Re-routing these ports for an outside connection would need me to directly access the server. Not like it would be much harder to do that...” a pair of knocks came through “These walls are paper-thin...” she mused.

“Where are you?!”

“I’m afraid by the time I’d tell you it would be outdated. I need to move; hang on.”

Metallic clicks, a  _ peculiar staccato beep _ and the typical hiss of a pneumatic door resonated through his skull to his ears. Then a few hardly intelligible male voices and cracked radio chatter sounded...

“Feather?” He held his breath uptight “Feather?!”

As all but static died off, her voice returned shortly.

“We should talk.”

“Can you be a little more elaborate on that?”

“What if I said I have got a solid trace on  _ our case,  _ with a few names that might interest you?”

Kevin listened for a while thoughtfully.

“Do we have a time constraint?”

“I’ll make my schedule free for you,” she purred sweetly.

“Feather… is that a no?”

“Three days,” came the prompt reply in a serious tone “There is a meeting in three days. You might want to see me before that.”

“I need to prepare for any… listening. You know that.”

“Don’t worry. You’ll be fine,” her voice turned chirping again “13 Wednesday at noon; 'location no. 3' of those you suggested last time.” Feather said and hung up before he could even protest about her picking all the factors of the tryst. A potentially dangerous situation, but he trusted her better than that;  _ maybe too well… _

He clicked his tongue edgily, sitting slumped on his desk.

_ Oh well, change of plans. _


	7. Hotshot

**Chapter VII.**

#  **Hotshot**

**_SAIA HQ, London, Earth [Solar System – Local Cluster] – 14:25 UTC – 2182.11.11 CE_ **

“If you stumble upon Kingsley, how will you legitimate it?”

The air felt tight in O’Bryan’s office. Waiting for him in the anteroom at the secretariat hadn’t helped to alleviate his nerve, but the Lieutenant Colonel’s accusing demeanour, which seemed to be fossilized as his trademark, made these sessions more stressful for Kevin than what he would have asked for.

“My legend doesn’t exclude the possibility to visit Alliance institutions. I don’t need to explain anything to him.”

“Or we can send someone else to deal with the police.”

“Yes, but that’s only the half of it. I need to see my source as well. She contacted me having info for me relating  _ Operation Offshoot _ .”

“But I assigned you to the turian Spec Ops delegation, if I’m correct.” O’Bryan’s eye snapped at Kevin.

“Erm...” it just struck Kevin that the illusion of choice Roland had presented him about tending the aliens had been decided well before he said yes. “Yes, but this meeting is urgent and bound to date. My agent won’t meet anyone else.”

“Feather is the source of SAIA, not  _ yours _ .”

“I understand that, but Feather has her rules, too...” he started but realized halfway through his sentence that he had just flaunted the red rag before the Lt Colonel.

“Then it’s time to tell her who is in charge!” he barked.

Sometimes he thought that the Lt Colonel felt it his duty to chew their asses only to keep their awareness awake – out of pure benevolent caring as their Head of Division – however, he would have gladly given up on the complementary nerve-training. 

Kevin felt his position wasn’t the strongest right now; he needed an evasion – fast!

“...yes, you are absolutely right. I mean that’s why I wanted to ask your opinion before going any further with the case.”

O’Bryan's features seemed to soften slightly as he had not expected the officer backhand agreeing with him.

“After the last job on Bekenstein I considered your words, boss,” He peered up at O’Bryan to see the glint of satisfaction on his face, “and I wanted to let you know that Officer Cameron from Division 3 showed interest towards taking over the source codenamed ‘Feather’ from us. I thought it would take the weight of agent handling off of our shoulders and we could keep working relying  _ merely _ on the info from Division 3... Or even transfer the whole case to them – you remember how much they wanted us to draw her in...”

“No, I don’t remember.”

“Erm…” was the only thing that came to his mind. “There was even a… _request_ _for introspection_ filed by them not long ago. Maybe the file just hasn’t arrived yet…”

O’Bryan kept staring at him with piercing eyes, nodding ever so slightly. Kevin grabbed the chance that he didn’t interpose again and carried on quickly:

“So, alternatively we’ve made some rearrangements of our resources to make our tradecraft more effective while we could also keep our assets for ourselves – if that’s your order.”

Kevin squared his shoulders and stared into space with the straightest face he could possibly pull. O’Bryan was mulling over a reply. He started to fiddle with a few datapads and put his styluses back into their case nicely and orderly, before saying a word.

“So they filed a request?” he mused, casting his eyes on the officer making him start feeling inconvenient. “If Division 3 wants their own sources, they should start procuring them! We are not a charitable division!” His index finger’s tip contacted the dark, glossy surface of his table firmly.

Kevin tentatively raised his eyes on O’Bryan. They were regarding each other like this for a while.

“Meet Feather, get her info, but tell her this was the last time she worked for us if she keeps up her obstinate attitude! 

“Aye, sir!”

“And Blauhorn...”

“Sir?”

“Cut her bonus to get the message through.”

Kevin nodded and left promptly as he was dismissed.

Wasting no time he headed immediately to Montgomery, but before anything else he slowed his steps to flick his omni-tool open: not long after the dial tone he was already in line; a man answered his call.

“Cam? Dean Cameron?" Kevin started. "Hello man! Do you remember that request you filed last week in haste? I was just warned that the reference number should be changed to XCO-346424/2182...”

“Ah, you mean the one on Agent Maus’ reports?” the man on the other side asked.

“Yeah!” Kevin said keenly “Are you in office by the way? Just because if you change it like... within ten minutes, chances are that it gets through today!”

“Well, thank you for the heads up Kevin! I’ll be done in a minute! What was it again?”

He repeated the code two more times, making sure his colleague could scribble it down correctly.

“Awesome! You are welcome! And Cam, remember: don’t include  _ names _ in the request, will you?”

“Okay… Why not?”

“It’s just some administrational stuff; reclassifying the dossier… leaving the names out would speed things up – I’ll know who you mean anyway since our discussion, so...”

“Okay. I’ll send the request in a sec, Kevin. Byes!” Cam said hurriedly hanging up, presumably to make the amendments to his RFI.

As Kevin's omni-tool went to standby again, he rounded a corner on the corridor then headed downstairs. He approached the office with haste when a short chime made him stop in his tracks. Before entering, he glimpsed at the pop-up screen appearing on a minimized projection just above his wrist.

_ ‘Incoming Request [from: Division 3; subject: Dossier Feather; reference: XCO-346424/2182] – Pending Signature from Head of Division.’ _

He mentally patted himself on the back with a satisfied smile creeping across his face. He swiped the notification away and palmed the green-lit button in front of him. The door slid aside. 

Montgomery’s eyes flitted at the officer coming in.

“We are going to talk about this,” he said to Torres who had been leaning against one of the chairs – now eyeing Kevin as well.

“Just an offer; think about it,” Gerard flared his hands, pushing himself off of the back of the chair and making tracks for the door.

“I’m sorry if I interrupted, I can come back later,” Kevin halted.

“We were already finishing.” Montgomery raised a hand snubbing his excuse. “What is it? Have you talked to O’Bryan?”

“I’m coming from him,” he jabbed a thumb behind. “We’re good to go.”

The Major’s thick black brows shot up, not disguising his surprise “That was fast! What did you tell him?”

“Merely used my personal charm.” He yanked his collar with a cocky smile. “Oh, by the way... Roland, I’m expecting a request from Division 3. Could you please forward it to me ASAP when it gets through the boss?”

“Yeah, sure,” he promised. “Kevin, talk to Sarah and get your travel arranged. You are leaving tomorrow. Give yourselves enough time to cover your asses this time.”

“Roland, you know that we did what we could...”

“I do, but you know what the boss is like...”

“Yeah, yeah I know,” he smirked.

* * *

**_SAIA HQ, London, Earth [Solar System – Local Cluster] – 16:20 UTC – 2182.11.11 CE_ **

He was walking on coarse gravel; each step crackling into the chilly air. With hands tucked deep into his pockets and his head swathed in his scarf under his service jacket’s hood his impression could have been that it was all silent out there... until he noticed his own aloofness – the recognition immediately awaking to the ambient buzz of the distant city centre; the cacophony of whirring tyres, whizzing skycars, drones and airliners, ongoing construction works, wailing sirens all tamed into an even, soothing hum, blending into the background almost naturally for the average Londoner. He was not sure if the irregular fluctuations were due to the change of winds or the hollering spectators of the nearby Wembley Stadium.

He was still looking for a valid reason that also himself could believe why he found it suddenly so important to head to the firing range when he had enough things to do, such as preparing for his next-day travel. Ante was escorting the turians the whole day, but Kevin proffered Erceg –  _ well, more like 'insisted’  _ – that he would take it over from him after 16:00, so he could rest. Of course, Ante was not keen on giving up the evening assignment as it counted into his over hours, while practically did not mean any real fostering to do.

By the time he reached the complex he felt starkly convinced that he had no valid reason to be there.

_ However, at least it was not raining. _

He cut a corner by hopping over a puddle of mud and sidled up to the massive brick wall of the shooting range. A series of shots rattled through the ventilation shaft above his head, while it was steadily blowing out bland clouds of warm air as he walked by.

He went through the main entrance, passing a pile of scuffed metallic beams amidst some heap of castoff wires and yellow barrier tapes. Panels were still missing from the walls and surplus buckets of paint, spray-pistols and other equipment from the renovations were scattered all over the place, visible through open doors on the corridor.

He finally arrived at the reception area. With the dim lights the windowless hall felt like the whole place had been vacated. However through several layers of walls fitted with observation windows he caught some activity. A figure shifted in its stance and suddenly bluish flashes lit up the place...

“Not bad.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Zaalia said wryly to Corporal Efrux.

“Okay. Your last shot was out of the head.”

“What?!” She squinted in disbelief until she caught one single hole on the cardboard that was indeed right outside the margin of the rectangle, which indicated the brain of the humanoid silhouette.

“Still looks fairly painful to me,” a third voice put in gingerly.

They both turned to the liaison officer.

“Evening,” he added with an awkward wave of a hand – his mind occupied with how close he should approach the practicants at the firing line. In short: he had suddenly noticed how clueless he was about range protocol.

“Sporting such a nice hole you would feel no pain anymore, Lieutenant. How may we help you?”

A _ ctually, I came to ask the same –  _ he thought, feeling cheated by Efrux’ advance.

“Unfortunately the daily tread wheel ground me in, so I wanted to make sure if the session went good in retrospect.” He rubbed his neck self-consciously.

Engrossed in his case most of the day, Kevin missed the official opening of the exchange programme, which took place in the main auditorium early morning in the presence of the SAIA leadership. Not that he minded much though; he had partaken in enough events of the kind: the better or worse written greetings and speeches about the fruitful cooperation in the crossfire of forced smiles soaked in formalities were things he could do well without. However, the odd case of the partners being turians this time made him at least partly sorry for missing the opportunity.

Efrux recounted that they had received a positively warm welcome from the Director General and experienced everything word-by-word so far just as they had been promised during the reception: suffering absolutely no needs at nothing.

“We’re literally spoiled here, Lieutenant! Thank you for your hospitality.”

Kevin nodded a few times wearing a demure smile, but soon after he started eyeing the gun that Zaalia’s hand was resting on, clipped onto its holster above her hips.

“Do you hold shooting practices for our guys as well?” He fired away.

“No, I believe if they work here as a Special Task Force, they already know how to shoot. We concentrate on tactics.”

“So, you two are just having fun?”

“Well, yes, and nope. We came down to see the equipment and try the weapons you use to get a bit more acquainted,” Efrux replied.

“Ah, I see!” Kevin uttered, his brows shooting up in realisation. “Although, I wouldn’t say I’m that well acquainted either,” he chuckled. “Um, I really wonder though, how pros like you wield the gun, like, properly. Actually I’d be more than happy to hear any suggestions... if you don’t mind a bystander,” he ventured, peering at the Corporal. 

“Oooh, coaching the gun stuff is not really up my street.” The turian soldier raised his hands evasively. “I’d let the  _ real _ specialist shine here.” He motioned for the turian woman standing by him, nonchalantly resting her right hand on the pistol’s grip and the other on her hip. Her eyes snapped at Efrux as his words sank in.

Zaalia could have sworn she had caught the Corporal sneering before he turned away. 

“I’ll help the man carry the equipment back to the storage,” Efrux yelled, jabbing a thumb towards the other firing lane referring to some unseen person, and with that he excused himself. Zaalia acknowledged his leave with an emphasized blink, staring daggers at the back of the fleeing lanky turian.

“I don’t keep you from anything, right?” Kevin glanced at her apprehensively.

“What? No!” Zaalia said with her attention back on the human.

“So, may I?” his eyes fell down to her hips again, where the now box shaped pistol was holstered... And quickly back up!  _ While at that, she had some rather wide hips! _ And he sincerely hoped that she did not think what he thought he had seemed to be thinking about! But his noble temperance only earned him a rapidly reddening pair of ears and the odd rise in the room’s temperature.

“Well, as far as you are allowed to use it?” she looked at him, her brow plates furrowed suspiciously.

_ Oh come on, I wasn’t even looking at her but the gun! All right, think about something neutral. Like wow, those are some flexible facial plates around her eyes...wait... oh my God, she totally noticed! _

“Um, yes absolutely! I’ve got one, too!”

“Okay, although I’m sure your range instructors are very good as well...” she lulled in her speech with what Kevin interpreted as a questioning look.

He nodded cracking a smile of confirmation, and she continued:

“...I can still show a thing or two! I assume you’ve got your basic training on firearms, yes?” She asked, her voice flanging now with a noticeably deeper and more relaxed trill; like she had finally arrived at her comfort zone.

Not like Kevin; he scratched his scruff with a wince, “yah, but it’s been quite a while. You know, I have been purposely trained to avoid using firearms,” he explained, earning a clear look of disbelief from the young turian, “shooting a round costs you way too much paperwork in the end, and is a last resort that necessarily ruins your long-built cover in an instant! So as they put it down to me at the end of the day: the only valid scenario where you should shoot is like where a pregnant woman is about to be stabbed by a thug; in any other case... do like a pro and run away _. _ ”

Zaalia noticed that she was gaping at the human.

“Wow, not so cool now, hearing myself saying it,” he muttered additionally, more as a side note to himself.

“Erm, as for us turians, all Hierarchy citizens must go through basic training and fifteen years of mandatory service at the armed forces. Thus, we learn quite a bit about weapons and combat...” she would have dragged on with her exposé, but her official manner couldn’t hold any longer and suddenly broke down; she holstered her gun and turned full-face to the human. “How the... how did you have such a strong fleet in the first place again?!” she shook her head gazing at the 2nd Lieutenant’s not quite peculiarly heroic figure in complete bewilderment.

“Lots of taxpayer-money, I believe?” he ventured with a shrug, but her persistent stare made it clear that she wouldn't let him get away with only so much info, “...but I know what you are getting at. Your society is very militaristic, if I’m correct? In contrast, I believe, what does the magic for us is 'specialization': some things the commando guys do I would not even try – not if my life depended on it! But I also bet many of them would go bonkers if they were to play best pals with shady criminal scum, talk their head off and write reports on it around the clock for their money. ‘Do what you like’ they said!” he concluded cheerfully. “Though if that was true I’d be a billionaire sipping cocktails aboard the Arcturian Jade now...”

“We do specialise also!” She piped up somewhat defensively. “For example… look at me: I enlisted as a regular like any other rookie. I did boot camp; I did Academy and then transferred to Special Operations. It required dedicated preparation and targeted training to develop specific skills in order to do so!”

“I see, but no; what I meant is...” He casted a cocky peek at her and spread his arms. “Look at me! Would you believe I am a loyal dog of Alliance Intelligence?” he said with a thousand-watt grin.

She raised a brow.

“...loyal dog, you know as in ...loyal varren,” he corrected for a more cross-cultural metaphor, while searching her sand coloured mask of cartilage for any thoughts sitting onto it.

Instead, inscrutably she was just gazing at him. She got the notion with the “dog” thing for the first time; that was not what bugged her; her mind was more like revolving around that smug face of this fuzzy headed alien explaining his own inadequacies with a confidence like it was the best laid order of things!

“So yeah,” Kevin continued with a sense of renowned assurance after seeing the alien woman’s moment of apparent abashment. He almost felt proud for his  _ human _ ingenuity, making capital of his weakness – even if merely a verbal one.

“…it is that, and also guns are a bit uncomfortable to wear when you are sitting in a car,” he imitated a pistol at his waist, “and if you are armed, you are essentially more prone to get into a conflict involving guns, right? Either because you draw first, or because someone else would try to take you out first. It’s more hassle than not; but I’m open to other opinions. If you have a good argument, I might reconsider my point,” he grinned at the specialist.

She glanced back.

“Having a gun you don’t need is way better than needing a gun when you’ve got none.”

The Specialist’s brief words rang shamelessly plausible…

“Have you ever shot a gun?” She asked lightly, waking the dumbfounded officer from his momentary freeze.

“What?! But please, of course! I’m in the ranks of an armed service!” He smiled sheepishly.

“All riiight,” she uttered unconvinced, measuring him up conspicuously. “Take it then!”

She spun the gun around, holding it by the barrel, and smacked its handle against the human’s chest imperatively. He huffed but took the weapon anyway.

“Kessler; they said it’s your standard issue sidearm. Show me what you’ve got,” she gazed into his eyes.

He would have loved to smash the high ball with a smartass comeback – given he had not been in the role of the complete novice.

“You want me to shoot?” he asked and she eyed him silently. “You want me to shoot...”

_ Funny; now that his technique was scrutinized by a professional, the whole act felt much-much more difficult to compose. _

His palm was already sweating; he raised his arm, aimed, and his finger slipped onto the trigger, pulling slowly...

“No.”

Entirely lost in focusing between the target and the sights, he almost flinched when he felt a resolute touch as she cupped his supporting hand.

“This hand goes up... Close your thumbs side-by-side. There’s no point wrapping the bottom of the gun with your other palm. Unless it is too heavy for you,” she taunted, but in such a benevolent tone that he could not pick it up the least. “The more your hands envelope the gun, the more control you have over it. Providing support on both sides will grant you a steadier aim... see?”

He felt moderately guilty for only paying half his attention to what she was saying, and half to _ how  _ she was saying it. And as puzzled he stood in his torpid excitement, as absorbed he became in her fragrance as she pulled closer to help with his stance.

_ Was it her natural scent or something that she wore? _ He felt giddy at the intimate thought. His mind raced to unravel the enigmatic alien blend of still so familiar substances. The waft aroused acrid, citrus-like yet spicy impressions in him, also hinting a tinge of blunter odours like that of fresh wood or vanilla.

He mused if it was wise to deduce any implications from it regarding her personality. Either way: she used a perfume that he would have gladly put on, too anytime!

“Okay, I see,” he nodded in acknowledgement.

His finger wandered back to the trigger, aimed and...pulled. The gun ducked silently with no action whatsoever. After a quick second and third vain attempt he briefly abandoned any further endeavour, accompanied by her soft snicker, which she couldn’t hold any longer.

“That’s unfair!”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry.” She recanted with what seemed genuine repentance on her face – spiced with some unearthly beaming mirth _. _

_ And well, the unearthliness was quite self-explanatory _ .

She peered through the observation window and quickly checked herself, squaring her shoulders.

“Okay, Lieutenant,” she cleared her throat, “switch the s...”

“...the safety! Argh!” He shot his eyes at the ceiling indignantly.

_ Yeah, it was definitely some sort of stage fright that got the worst of him. _

He switched the lever, waited for the familiar hoot as the mass effect field fired up inside the gun and pulled the trigger. In the company of a bright blue flash the smoke trail connected the Kessler’s muzzle with the backstop followed by the peculiar, pungent smell of ozone filling his nostrils.

They repeated four more times.

“Don’t expect the shot. Let it surprise you!”

“My job is not to be surprised!”

“It makes you flinch. That’s why your following shots hit low. Did you see the flash?”

“Good question. Actually, no,” he shrugged, completely clueless.

“You have  _ boom-fright _ "

"Boom what?"

"You shut your eyes at the shot, or when you think it comes..." she explained and seemed to think for a second. "Click the safety!”

She took the gun from him and turned off to the side, fiddling with it out of his sight. When she finished whatever she had been doing, the turian turned back to the officer and returned the gun, instructing him to continue:

“Ready? Up!” She yelled the orders firmly.

He tried his best to collect his thoughts, but it took ridiculously much effort to keep all the bits in check.

He pulled the trigger; the gun jerked forward, tilting down mutely again. His ears grew red in the awkward silence.

“I flinched,”

A satisfied smile curved her lips, holding up the removed battery unit in her hand.

“It’s happening because you expect the gun's recoil and you try to counter it. That involuntary move is weak enough to be disguised by the actual recoil, but strong enough just to interfere with your hits.”

“Okay…” He stared with a blank face, processing the information, before he focused on the bony mask again. “What?” He frowned questioningly under the accusing scrutiny of the still staring emerald eyes.

“You also blinked…”

A few dozen rounds ended up in the backstop within the next half an hour as the specialist did her best to weed out the most erratic habits of the clumsy human. She patiently called his attention on his mistakes, and helped him to construct his stance and motions for each shot to contribute his improvement – whilst both of them remained completely oblivious to the man in red instructor uniform momentarily ogling them outside the observation glass, when he was not pacing up and down with arms crossed.

“You are getting good.”

“Yah, I’m a rough diamond,” he glimpsed at her, attentively keeping the  _ laser rule _ .

“So deep and dull?” she ventured, flashing a  _ lot _ of teeth!

“That one!” He yelled laughing, both surprised and happy for the turian opening up. “And also so hard-headed!” He knocked at his skull comically.

Kevin was starting to feel the fun side of it as his nervousness subsided, and as the turian woman seemingly became more convinced about his abilities, too to show him some resting and ready positions and simple yet  _ cool _ moves – leastwise that’s how they looked on the Spec Op girl. In the end he finally felt the faint taste of being an insider – a really far-out insider.

“Well, it takes some time and practice until the basics sink in. Once you are comfortable with the recoil and the sound of your gun, and the handling of the weapon becomes subconscious, you can start situational training, which bears the real fun, shall I say. In your case I imagine scenes where you need to draw aim and shoot from concealment – and fast.

“I regret by the time I’d get there your tenure here is over.”

“If you don’t give up, we might bump into each other at an interstellar shooting competition; and you make me proud,” she shot a frisky squint at him.

“Yeah, now I only wonder what arm I should do that with.”

“Your Kessler is pretty good for what you got it for. Can you take it home?” One of her browplates shifted up.

“Nah, it’s bound to operation.”

“Well you could always have your own sidearm...”

_ That could be cool after all. _

“And what would  _ you _ buy if you were to choose now, Specialist?”

“Well, Lieutenant, I’ve got a Stiletto mark V.”

“How is it different?”

“Feel it,” she smirked as she reached to her hip and unslung another gun in its compact form. The arm unpacked itself by the time she slid it into Kevin’s palm.

The grip was made of a hard plastic, bearing a coarsely moulded surface, which felt rough at first, but gave the gun a firm grip even when his palm was wet – just like now. He had not given it a deeper thought before, so it also contributed to his surprise that such huge differences could exist between one gun and another when he noticed how more balanced the Stiletto felt against the Kessler, and how more naturally it lay in his grip.

“So what should I get? I really like yours.”

“Well, Kesslers are rugged and reliable; I vouch for model VII; I was lucky to try the Razer mark V and VI, too. Their trigger pull is really even and resolute and their build quality is superior – so is their price. But my favourite is my Stiletto; however, they are seldom available outside Hierarchy clients...”

“Excuse me, how long are you planning to shoot? I’d close the place and your colleague said you were finishing… Ah, Frank Coiro, nice to meet you, Ma’am.” Eventually, the man in the red shirt approached them somewhat uncertainly.

“Hey, yah, we were…pretty much finishing up,” he glanced at his alien instructor for an affirmative nod, which she just provided. “We were just talking about my menacingly fast growing interest in firearms.”

“Well, that’s always a good thing!” The instructor's eyes suddenly started to shine like that of a kid when their favourite super-hero's name is mentioned.

“Yah, I wonder how I could…acquire one?” He mulled the question, suddenly afraid of venturing maybe too deep into uncharted territory.

“Do you have a licence?”

“No,” Kevin shook his head, “although I’m licensed to kill!” he jested.

“Heh, yeah well that’s a problem... Both of them,” the instructor dared a saucy smile. “However, considering you are an officer the paper work would be much faster than for a civilian. You might be good by the time the shipment’s here... if I am that good and order the sweet thing for you, but if it stays on me I’ll use it to rob you for its price.” 

“No way I’d let you keep it!”

"We submit our order next week. Of course they will be paid separately from the company, but makes it easier to add some extra items. We order a bunch of Razers and Breaker machine guns from Kassa Fabrication. The guys are looking forward to delivery like Christmas. In fact it’s gonna be around that time.”

The turian tilted her head, frowning.

“So? Make up your mind if you want to jump on-board! And I say: you want to.”

Now, he really wasn’t the guy throwing out money on expensive stuff without thinking it over the hundredth time, but in this very moment he felt unusually light headed in the company of these apparently persuasively confident gun maniacs, when he threw his reply in.

“Yeah, sign me up.”

The man strode just outside the observation wall and grabbed a datapad, scrolling down a list of equipment.

“That’s the talk man! What is it again?”

“A... erm... Stiletto Fabrication model...?” His voice petered out.

“Do you have a Haliat Armory Stiletto mark VI?” she asked, hardly able to resist cracking a wide smile at the Lieutenant’s expense.

“You are not helping, ma’am,” he muttered.

The man browsed through the items and already served with an answer: “Yeah, we’ve got it”.

“I think I just did,” she replied with a toothful smile.

* * *

**_Heathrow Spaceport, London, Earth [Solar System – Local Cluster] – 10:45 UTC – 2182.11.12 CE_ **

Kevin was gazing through the small window; the angular wing of the spacecraft spread out into his view, bearing longitudinal radiator ribs across its surface, with a vectorable thruster fitted on its tip. He counted four lifters during boarding, the bird seemed capable of both vertical and horizontal take-off and by the look of it, it was propelled by four main fusion torches. However, no thorough inspection of his surroundings could avert his mind from replaying fresh memories of the day again and again:

His stomach was churning. As contended he had felt after the last evening, as concerned he had become now, right before they set out to the spaceport.

He had packed his luggage, prepared his personal gadgets and also popped in to the techs to check the hastily assembled surveillance pack. Once he had got the mandatory brief over the use and updates of the devices, with the assistance of the tech colleague they neatly put the gadgets into the dedicated compartment of his other bag.

Whenever he was off to distant, lasting missions, conferences or just a personal journey he could never get rid of the voice in the back of his head that he had forgotten something. This time was no different from the rest except that the process of hushing the voice was remarkably easier and faster with a new unknown force in play. As it happens, somehow the image of the ongoing training in the building next door entertained his thoughts much more than the haunting demon of leaving something at home.

He was passing by the main auditorium and his pace slowly decreased to an amble as he kept eyeing the frontage until... he found himself loitering by the coffee machine in the anteroom. The door was cracked open; he could hear the murmur of the ongoing presentation as well as the intensifying rustle of the audience as they moved to vacate the hall when Pretonus called in a five minutes break.

“...then we continue with Specialist Gerumis, who will introduce our approach on dynamic entry in barricade and hostage situations.”

_ You are here to make sure she’s alright. That’s your job, right? _

“Hey guys!” He greeted the operators passing him as they headed for the exit for some fresh air.

Finally he slithered inside against the flow of people to find the Spec Ops lounging by a long table on a slightly elevated podium. Pretonus was sitting in the middle with Corporal Efrux and Zaalia on his right; the specialist handling the holographic projector, while Corporal Gaian and Private Nazario were sat on his other side.

Pretonus was eyeing him as he approached them; he also forestalled him:

“Good morning, Lieutenant!” his voice flanged through the air.

“Good morning gentlemen!” he said loudly. “And lady!” he added, turning to the turian woman who was fiddling with her slides and didn’t look up until now.

“Morning,” she murmured and returned to her business without much ado. Kevin glanced at her again, but found her entirely dedicated to the interface of the projector.

“I... wanted to make sure if everything was all right. Have you met Officer Erceg in the morning?” 

“Yes, we started the day with him. Thank you for your concern, Officer.”

“I’m also here for Specialist Gerumis.”

Visibly the two most affected persons by his words were Efrux and Zaalia. Demian’s brows visibly creased up while the turian female cocked her head curiously.

Realizing the time pressure he hastily explained that he was here to see the specialist to the infirmary for the timely check-up. Zaalia politely protested; he politely insisted.

“I’m all right, thank you!” she said, almost instantly chiding herself for the naive thought that it would ever earn her a break among these over-hospital humans.

“Ms Gerumis, I... just feel personally responsible for your injuries to heal adequately;” he continued then so stiltedly that he surprised even himself. “I’d like to have my mind at peace.”

“I... thank you, but I’m in the middle of my presentation,” she put in simply, yet Kevin had hardly any arguments to top it. “I promise I will see the doctor thereafter,” she added, eventually having mercy on the trying human just in time when Kevin started to feel bizarrely awkward in his skin, which from the inside started to seem like he was almost begging her.

The problem was that it also seemed like that from the outside. He accepted the promise with a thankful nod and spun around leaving at speed.

_ Stupid, stupid, stupid...! _

“Hey, hey Kevin! What do you think?” Thomas prodded him intently.

“What?” He opened his eyes in a sudden.

“I love these spaceliners! Look at the slick design; feels like a sci-fi movie," Tom beamed with enthusiasm.

He raised his head to assess the spacecraft from his seat. Stylishly streamlined interiors in a combination of beige and blue colours and cobalt blue holographic light-sources established a futuristic atmosphere on-board. A spark of guilt ignited in his chest for not enjoying every bit of the journey as he had to admit the sight was much to his liking.

A wave of vibration shook the hull as the engines ramped up their output.

“Yah, they are awesome,” he growled and buried his face back into his palm.

* * *

**_SAIA HQ, London, Earth [Solar System – Local Cluster] – 19:10 UTC – 2182.11.12 CE_ **

_ "…This is Diana Allers reporting on the Bekenstein protests. Feelings began running high when this afternoon a group of asari and humans climbed to the top of the Police Headquarters building flying a banner “Love is not a Crime''. The activists tied themselves to the communications arrays. Police Chief Sayd Harris said the banner and the protestors posed danger both to the equipment and their own life, so they had to be removed. The Chief promised the arrested asari and humans would be released after their ID are verified. Simultaneously the riot police pushed the demonstrators outside of the direct vicinity of the office." _

_ "Thank you Diana, and now the localized weather forecast: //localization: UK, EU// those who already prepared their thermal coats and gloves were right: things are changing over the next few days thank to the weather front drifting South-West bringing plenty of rain expected to fall during the weekend, covering most of Northern England and Wales in snow…" _

“So you’ve got your own human?” Pretonus put in through the gibberish of the mess hall.

The turians sitting around the table perked their head at the voice of their commander who was now looking at Zaalia with a vague hint of a smile under his mandibles.

“What do you mean?” she queried.

“I’m also here for Specialist Gerumis’… booty,” Efrux cooed satirically, only then becoming aware, what he would set loose around the table.

He quickly pulled outside of her arm-range as she snapped a pair of laser eyes at him.

“Just how long you’d had to fight during the Relay 314 Incident to earn such a handsome footman!” Gaian quirked, waking an acrid laughter in the group.

“Oh my, isn’t that a dent in your talon! Let me polish it up! Nice and blunt; this is the new human fashion my dear!” Nazario whinnied in a high tone while he was trying to get hold of his mug, which kept dancing away from his uncoordinated grabs.

“You, you piece of dong,  _ you _ said I should've been friendlier! I did so and now you’re ragging on me?” She pointed at Efrux from behind a smile yet the wild glint in her eyes gave away that she was agitated inside.

“Yeah, but I didn’t expect you’d seduce poor bloke the minute I look away.” he put in with such a straight face, that it worked up Zaalia even more – much to his amusement.

"Or... does  _ he _ have a turian now?" Pretonus raised one brow plate as he threw up the rhetorical question, then gazing into her eyes inquisitively. 

It did not take a whole second to find herself in the doghouse. As much as she loved the guys and the team, she also knew well that any sign of weakness made the rest jump on the “prey” like wild animals. Not that she could put her finger on a single case when someone had gone  _ too _ far with the jokes, although the truth was the team – including herself – had never been picky when it came to some raillery. 

Still, in an uncanny way, she found it unprecedentedly hard to keep her composure against this pressure tonight. She tried to repel the quirks and come back at them, but she was playing a losing game.

“Kiss my ass!” She threw it at Demian.

“I would!” A hand rose, which belonged to Nazario. Smiling with a silly face earned him only Zaalia glaring down the Private through squinted eyes.

“Apropos of kissing: now it’s just become clear why you two bumped your heads together so snugly back on our camp tour.”

“He was fixing my omni...”

“Never knew you called yours that!” the raspy voice of Gaian piped up “But then, I can see why you  _ fixed _ him back in the groin – sorry – in the OMNI later that evening. Am I using it correctly?”

Zaalia snorted with growing annoyance. “You are morons.” She rolled her eyes at the infantile puns.

“Well, if the krogan call it a quad... ‘omni’ makes sense,” Efrux shrugged absently, "but I’ve never been good at xeno-anatomy.”

“Your ways of courting always turned me on,” Gaian said as if talking to his glass and chugged its purple content all up.

Pretonus was just sitting and casting a pair of hawk eyes at her. The fact he said nothing and laughed none was more than unnerving.

“Can we already call that smooch over your  _ omni _ ‘kissing’?”

She let out a resigned sigh as she shook her head.

“I imagine it would be familiar for your taste, Gerumis!” Nazario propped himself on his elbows mockingly flicking his tongue at the specialist like a reptile.

“Okay it’s enough.” She pinched her nose, trying to laugh it off but the raging waves of sarky barks didn't seem to wane; they enveloped her head, her mind, coalescing into a boisterous clamour stinging into her brain. Something snapped inside her...

“It’s ENOUGH!”

A flush of anger overwhelmed her, creeping across her back from the top of her fringe down to her toes. Her head was throbbing hot, but her hide felt clammy. To her greater dismay a visible shiver ran through her without even a chance to suppress it. 

“Damn, sorry, I’m not good,” was all she could utter in a thin voice as she rose from the table and stepped away from them.

Efrux kicked his chair back, ready to catch her if she tumbles, but she waved his arm off, still pinching her nose with one hand.

“No,” she declined curtly and strode away towards the restrooms.

“I meant… no offense,” the slightly drunk form of a remorseful Nazario slumped back onto his place, paddling about his half-empty glass.

* * *

She was trying to pace her breathing down, slow and deep, while struggling to close out all the rest: the swishing vent in the ceiling, the erratic humming of a loosely plugged light tube outside the cubicle and the fact that she felt safer kneeling on the dubiously cleaned, damp floor beside the toilet, not to risk a head-to-head race against her revolting gizzard.

She spat into the white ceramic bowl.

_ How clean this stuff might be? But then, who the hell cares; these bacteria would not recognize me even from a mug shot. Oh Spirits, damn it!... _

She chocked her hand against the wall for more support.

_ Assholes!...I don’t understand this human either; so frickin' assertive. Oh yeah, “he can’t even shoot a gun”. Oh how easy you are, stupid!  _

She scowled herself, giving the plywood wall an irate smack.

_ She was warned about this. He is an intelligence officer. Of course he is trying to fool her. She shouldn’t even believe a word he says. She shouldn’t have lowered her guard in the first place! Or did she? She’s taking it too seriously; the guys were just playing her up! Damn it! _

A wave of shiver pervaded her as she felt realisation kicking in.  _ Humans are in fact deceptive! _

_ ‘Look at me...’  _ she recalled the Lieutenant’s grinning form.

_ Heh, he is so frail. S _ he laughed dimly.

…and jerked forward as she hugged the seat, saying an inglorious goodbye to her dinner.


	8. Smooth Operative

**Chapter VIII.**

#  **Smooth Operative**

**_Milgrom, Bekenstein [Boltzmann System – Serpent Nebula] – 14:25 LT – 2182.11.12 CE_ **

Knocks on the door ripped into the silence of Tom's room.

The young officer sat hunched over on the edge of his bed, prying a spiky pebble out of his shoe's sole, when he perked his head up at the unexpected noise.

He rose to his feet and palmed the peep cam's button; the projected screen popped into his face showing Kevin's ridiculously distorted nose in the fisheye image.

"Where's the bathroom?" Kevin demanded, as the door slid open.

"Why? You don't have one?" Thomas raised an eyebrow and gave way to his colleague storming into the room.

"I do, but..." he nodded at the lavish sight, while leaning against the door frame casually, "look at that. Not too bad, right?"

Tom ambled by him and peered over his shoulder.

The lights automatically came on saturating the finely curved white porcelain bathroom ware and the glittering immaculate chrome inlays and glossy wooden surfaces, which praised the merits of a famous asari interior designer whose name Kevin could not recall, but knew for sure that several other exclusive hotels bore the fruits of her work. The flowing forms reminded him more of their squid-like head-tentacles, but before a shiver could spout from his guts his mind quickly attached the imagery to general maritime life forms.

“I think we can capitalize on your last blunder after all.” Thomas pouted with an approving nod.

“As much as it hurt my hubris, I guess I can take it for the team,” he said in agreement.

As it happens, O’Bryan was insistent to abandon the  _ Harrington _ hotel out of precaution, to let it rest as their temporary base of operations to avoid disclosure. Kevin did not agree of course as he was sure his activity did not raise suspicion, thus he positively believed that the decision was a means of letting him know who was in charge. Regardless – as hard as it felt – he did not make a fight about it. However, his sore professional pride had reconciled eventually when he noticed that the next cheapest suitable hotel was actually this more expensive one!

“I love seeing taxpayer’s money well-spent,” Kevin added with a cocky smile.

“Yeah, but hey, we pay tax, too. It just as might be that  _ you _ paid for this nice room of mine.”

“Putting it that way the taste is no longer that sweet...” He uttered wryly, “but if I had known sooner, I wouldn’t have spared a few more Credits to get you a decent one,” he said as he leant away from a floor-to-ceiling shelving unit to the left from the bathroom, also giving an expressive glance to Thomas.

They would definitely have to note the room as 'unsuitable' for future use since they found that a door stood barricaded behind the furniture.

Tom stepped by to take a look: it seemed like a non-reinforced poly-wood door with a manual lock, presumably leading to another currently locked-down part of the apartment, or connecting to another residency which would have its own exit to the hallway – something they would need to find out before they would have left for the police station.

Tom nodded in acknowledgement, but Kevin was already half-way outside the threshold, checking his watch.

“Meeting in ten?”

“Whoa, what’s with the haste?”

“Gotta be the higher oxygen levels on Bekenstein.” He shrugged the comment off light-headedly before he quickly left much to Tom’s measuring stare.

He strode back to his room, pacing the distance between Tom’s door and the next beside it along the way, and found that it probably belonged to the same room as the one behind the shelves. A pulsing orange status light above the lock suggested that the room was not simply locked but under special maintenance or just not for rent. Satisfied with his findings, he moved on. 

He wasted no time in his quarters and decided to settle in only once they were back from the Milgrom Police. After changing his shirt and putting on his tie his hand reached into the main compartment of his bag once more, feeling out a pack wrapped in paper.

_ That was the most important thing to have with him now; something Feather would definitely appreciate – and additionally help him to negate the effect of O’Bryan’s bonus cut that he was supposed to pass to her. _

The lock clicked behind him as he strode back to Tom’s place with his bag slung on one and his jacket on his other shoulder.

Soon the pair was standing in the anteroom kitted out in their black suits; Thomas who was wearing a traditional style shirt with a tie gave the once over to his attire and put his tie straight, while Kevin, whose jacket was tailored to the latest fashion, yanked his collar casting a lasting glance into the mirror. 

With the reassuring nods of their reflections, they finally headed out.

* * *

They strode down Pope Clement Avenue, their way flanked by monolithic buildings painted white or bearing the greys of exposed concrete. The blocks lining the street housed a huge variety of shops, with their displays alluring the passing pedestrians.

Tom did not understand first, but Kevin’s pace slowly turned into a sluggish saunter, as he seemed to examine every single storefront.

“Hey we could check it, shall we?” He spoke up eventually, nodding at a spinning door. “We are early anyway...” He continued with high hopes after gaining an unsure look from his colleague.

However, Thomas’ eyes were still fixed on the sign above the entrance.

“Please... a drugstore?” He raised an eyebrow. “You had it on your mind from the beginning hadn’t you?” Came the accusatory question.

“But please, you know the drill: we must arrive at the meeting’s location well before the subject!”

“So your plan ‘B’ to get around O’Bryan’s credit cut and to maintain her trust was... seducing her?”

“No, actually that’s been on my mind since her recruitment from day one.” The 2nd lieutenant winked.

Without waiting for much reaction Kevin dashed into the store with Tom in tow, whose suspicions were soon confirmed that any illusory bustle lasted only up to this moment. The younger officer was sauntering up and down the rows sampling the perfumes for some thirty minutes before they finally checked out at the counter. From the assortment of niche brands there were mostly three types for offer: the more exclusive, the even more exclusive and the most exclusive ones – from which Kevin after some elaborate pondering picked a new fragrance of _Zarren Casias_ attractively titled “ _Impetus_ ”.

“What do you think?”

“Hmm... how to put it; I’ve never been good at describing smells. It’s like... someone whose perfume still lasts after a workout, mixed with the air of a Sunday mass.”

“I knew I could always count on you, buddy...”

“Okay, it’s not that bad; maybe a bit too sweet if you are asking me. I’d have gone for something more vital, but it’s alright.” Tom then lightly squeezed his sore partner’s arm above the elbow reassuringly.

The two walked on without a word. Their new hotel, the  _ Milgrom Palace _ , was situated much closer to the city centre than the  _ Harrington _ , but what was even more important: it was closer to their recent place of interest, the Milgrom Police HQ. And fortunately it was not far from Feather’s suggested meeting point either. 

And between those checkpoints Kevin was thankful for the opportunity to walk in the gentle, early afternoon rays of the Bekenstein sun in contrast with the shuddering cold they left at home. Recalling all those different, wild and ferocious charted worlds he watched documentaries about, he was musing how slim the chances could have been for the creation of a paradise like this; where the conditions were just right to grant such a remarkably similar biosphere to Earth’s. He breathed in the air of the alien planet and shivered at the thought of actually  _ him _ being the alien here.

“So when was the last time you were at a party?”

Kevin looked back at him with brows arching high.

“What... Where’s that question from?” 

“I just want to know how you are, that’s all.”

“Then why don’t you just ask simply like that. I’m fine.”

Noises caught their attention as they walked out of the cover of a corner. The white and light gray-metallic walls with reflective solar panels and windows, which were surrounding the skywalk, tunnelled an unrestful murmur towards them from the side.

“Oh I was worried we wouldn’t see any of those,” Tom muttered nodding across the street.

Kevin followed his look.

Sparsely grouped people of humans and a few asari with flags and banners were chatting and gesticulating feverishly, giving the unmistakable signs of being up to something. Kevin spotted one or two salarians among them as well! They were a rare sight on Bekenstein. He craned his head to get another glimpse as they moved on, but Tom seemed persistent:

“So yeah, when did you have a nice get-together the last time?”

“Arh... I don’t go to parties. It’s not my thing,” he tugged into his trousers’ pockets.

“So you don’t have anybody now?”

“Girls? No.”

“Guys?”

“Ah, I see where you are going with this!” He yelped, snapping a finger at the grinning man. “No worries, you are still the only one,” he said as he threw a kiss at him.

Thomas shook his head, evidently expecting a more expansive answer.

“Is nobody in your sights from the company?”

“Well, there is Tania.” Kevin replied after giving it a second thought.

“Who is she?”

“She is at Administration; you remember: she was the one arranging our expenses for last week’s trip here – that you bugged out from eventually calling in sick! She is blonde by the way... Although, I think she’s married or engaged.” He knew he had seen a ring on her hand, he just could not recall what the tradition held about the side a ring was worn. He also tried to recall if he had seen such a thing on either of the turian’s hands...

“The only woman ‘ _ engaged’  _ is which is lain on.” Tom winked with his ever-impish face.

“Nah yah,” he cracked up. “I still think I’m out of options though. Most women at the company are not quite my age. And before you say a thing, those who are, are just not my type,” he said as his eyes wandered around the street only now realising that they had been strolling amidst more and more people heading the same direction as them.

“You know who you need?” Tom stroke his chin thoughtfully “Kat would break you right in.”

Kevin glimpsed back at Tom.

“Kat from the Special Task Force? Haha! Yeah, she sure has some biceps! I imagine she would make a great wife; like, just how well she could stir a potful of soup with those hands! But you know the rule: a hunter doesn’t shoot the rabbits, but the hares!”

“Yeah, except when it’s self-defence!”

“Yah, well I’m not at risk of being attacked by a minx like that though,” he said waving a hand as they turned a corner. “Oh I can’t believe it...”

“What?”

An even greater crowd of demonstrators was staging behind the intersection, spreading out down the street. But nearest to them, of all the rambling people, they ought to have ran into a hauntingly familiar and while at that, pretty face…

“I wasn’t fully honest about going to parties... Hide me!”

A pale white skinned, petite brunette in her youthful years was having a hearty discussion with two hipsters just around the corner; she turned her attention momentarily in the direction of the two newcomers, but before she would have submerged again in the conversation, she snapped her head at them once more, staring intently this time.

“You!” She piped up shortly. 

Tom had to give it a once over if she was talking to them; and she was.

“Hello, um... So… You remember me?” Kevin asked sheepishly.

The next thing happened was a loud, backhand slap on his face.

“But I didn’t do anything!” he yelped, pressing his palm on the red finger marks protectively.

“Exactly!”

“Should I leave you two alone?” Tom interposed tentatively, but was only left glared down by the sullen woman.

“I... you said we should have gone back to your room. But it was more like only  _ me _ going and carrying  _ you _ ...” He tried to earn some of her gratitude.

“Because it was hell of a party! And...” She seemed to hang up for a second, but she promptly continued in a much thinner voice. “You said you liked me; all that  _ bullshit _ about you wanted to know me more deeply!” She blurted out then.

Tom’s mouth instantly curled into a lopsided grin.

“You left without leaving so much of a fricking omni ID, a ‘good-bye’ or even a damn kiss! How much more should have I licked your damn face around for that, huh?!”

Kevin looked around wide-eyed and he could hear the 1st lieutenant whistle curtly while the girl’s friends were grinning like a Cheshire cat.

“Okay, hey Yvonne...” He held out his hands, attempting to calm her.

“ **Yvette** !”

“Yvette! Of course!” He corrected hurriedly, while Tom was sure his colleague’s eyes had glinted genuine fear for a second, “...listen to me, it’s... it’s become complicated... as you grew pretty  _ tired  _ after we had gotten back to your place.”

“Duh, obviously: we danced through the night!” Yvette said and her face softened, shut her eyes and she shuffled around, her hips swaying sensually, reliving the moment while her gang hollered and clapped approvingly.

“Is she on Hallex?” Tom muttered sidling nearer.

Kevin shrugged. “Either she’s been all time, or that’s really how her nature is.”

The woman eventually stopped and pointed a finger at Kevin, eyes sprung open with a painful expression of recognition.

“Oh I get it! You were drunk and now you think you are too good for my league...

“No! That’s not it. Look, you are beautiful, I just… how to tell you...”

“You are gay… Oh I knew it!”

“What?! No! I just…” Kevin gasped, gawking at her. “You are just not my type...” He explained, but his voice petered out as she ranted on.

“Oh don’t come with this! I’ve been flirting with you the whole night and you were all sweet talking and friendly, yet reserved and oh my gosh, so cute! You wouldn’t have come up to my room with me if you didn’t like me a little at least! So don’t try to sell this crap to me, because I’m not buying it!” She raised her fist, gesturing a tad too passionately, causing Kevin to flinch inadvertently.

She was really going out of her mind. Actually, she looked quite intimidating with her contoured eyes wide open, glaring at him with a killer stare.

“Erm… Okay, you were right. I’m... I’m gay.” He raised his arms submissively. “I just needed some... fellow female company, like a soulmate thing going on...?” He sweated it out somewhat faltering, and all he hoped was that he sounded just convincing enough.

Much to his luck Thomas who had been having a hard time suppressing a burst of laughter was standing right outside her field of view.

“Oh.” She suddenly fell silent, searching his face. “That’s... understandable.” She stammered as if not quite believing that she guessed right “Erm... so what are you doing here?” She peered at Thomas.

“We...heard about the demonstrations!” Kevin replied hastily.

Her eyes grew wider.

“And thought we would see them for ourselves up-close maybe... You know, supporting the  _ cause _ .”

“Oh my God, how cute! Why did you not tell me sooner? Are you two...” she took a step back to have both of them in sight, appraising the two men head-to-toe. “You two are...”

“He is my...  _ partner _ . Kinda.” 

“Oh my, you are together right?”

Now it was Tom, whose smile froze onto his face.

“Correct!” Before he could have done anything, Kevin hooked an arm around his comrade. “But we are discreet,” he winked confidentially.

“Oh I see, of course! Well, I won’t be any louder about that; promise.” She said with shiny eyes.

“Thank you!”

“Oh well, anyway: we are actually here to protest, too!” She spread her arms and as they followed her gesture they noted the slow yet steady grow of the mass of people in the street. “Anna here helps with mobilizing the activists. It is a cause none of us should ignore! If we give in to the oppression now, we lose our final damn right to call ourselves human.”

“Damn right girl!”

“Yeah!” Yvette’s friends nodded hastily and in utter agreement over the matter. 

They got distracted only when they noticed a whizz of tyres, buzzing closer and closer from behind the two officers. Kevin barely had a moment to note the approaching noise when a clamorous horn and the crackling of a megaphone screeched into his ears.

_ “Attention! This is a police announcement: this area is not authorized for holding a demonstration! Please make way for the passage of traffic.” _

Kevin leaped to the side and waved a hand apologetically at the darkened windscreen of the passing police variant M-080 truck. Kevin barely recovered from leaping away from the vehicle’s way when he was blown away by another wave of howl.

_ ‘A.C.A.B!’  _ read the cardboard sign that seemingly appeared from nowhere in the hand of two men standing by Yvette, while herself was preoccupied bellowing akin to a krogan Kevin recalled from those educational vids back in school.

“You can pass on to hell, bastards!”

_ “Dictators, Dictators, Dictators!”  _ came the chant from dozen throats and followed the patrol vehicle down the street as it moved on.

“Wow, well, I like the energy here. It is so positive!” Kevin exclaimed.

“Heh, sure it is,” Yvette giggled, suddenly all the scowling clearing off of her face. “I try to maintain a high spirit!” 

“All right,” Tom nodded a few times, heedfully maintaining his smile. “We should go, though, right?”

“Erm, yeah, definitely. See you around some time, Yvette!” Kevin said and the woman waved back as he turned around.

Just when he thought they were safe, her voice pierced through the jangle once more.

“Ah, not another step!”

“Y-Yes?”

She brought up her omni-tool beckoning him with her finger.

“Ah, yes, that would be good...”

Kevin somewhat reluctantly raised his hand, too, and initiated an omni- _ handshake _ . The procedure exchanged ID details and correspondence between the two accounts.

“I didn’t know your name was Bell.” She peered at the freshly created contact card.

“Now you do.” He winked and waved goodbye.

They were striding from the group at pace. 

“Are you sure that was the  _ best _ story you could give her?”

“Definitely not,” he returned only so much of a glance “but I didn’t have the guts to hurt her feelings.”

“Well,  _ she _ seemed pretty content with the idea of hurting  _ you _ !”

“I see both sides of the coin; that’s all. I’m not that stone-hearted.” Kevin said as he reached into his pocket.

He was fiddling with his wallet, and as they very soon passed a battered sullen looking man crouching on the pavement, he threw a bill worth 20 credits into his little box lying before him.

“God bless you,” uttered the raspy voice from the ground. 

They turned the corner without much of a glance back.

* * *

**_Milgrom, Bekenstein [Boltzmann System – Serpent Nebula] – 14:10 LT – 2182.11.12 CE_ **

“Do you see her yet?” Kevin murmured through the voice link.

_ “Negative. Are we on time?”  _

“Positive.”

_ “Cut the military talk. It doesn’t suit your suit.” _

“You keep hurting my self-image.” 

Kevin scanned the perimeter once more then leant back in his rattan chair, enjoying the sun on the balcony of the bar, giving himself a few seconds of break from watching for Feather’s appearance – or any other suspicious element for that matter.

“May I take your order, sir?”

“I’m still thinking.” Kevin opened his eyes again, raising his head at the waiter.

“And the lady?” 

Now Kevin’s eyes sprung wide. He snapped his head to the side with no hope to keep his chin from dropping when he found a young woman comfortably lounging by his table. She elegantly crossed her legs and leant forward as she addressed the waiter.

“I’ll have an orange juice, thanks!” She warbled.

“Erm... a glass of Tupari for me...” He added and nodded the waiter off.

He turned to face her newfound table-partner appraisingly. She was wearing a figure hugging whole body suit, reinforced with coils around the arms and the thighs with carbon fibre patches showing between the seams of the beige faux leather front and back covers.

“Sorry I hope I am not too late. My train took a wrong turn at Higgs Square.” She grinned.

“In the apparent hurry you called me I was quite afraid you’d forgotten about our  _ time-shift rule _ .” He started in a professional manner in an attempt to disguise that his mind was still full-on revolving around how she had managed to sneak by him like that.

“So did I earn some bonus by proving I'm able to think clearly under pressure?” The woman grinned “I remembered: any appointment we make over the comms means  _ one day minus and two hours plus _ for times.”

“Yah, that’s correct... However, about winning the bonus... What the heck was that call from an Alliance intra-line?”

“I needed a hand with some unclear details on a person. Grandma always told me if I ever needed help, I should ask a policeman… Reflexes kicked in, so I dropped by at the police station.”

“Which… which police station?” He gave her a hopeless look, burying his face in his hand.

“This one, not too far.” She jabbed her thumb behind her.

“That’s the Milgrom Headquarters!” Kevin almost cried out.

She shrugged.

“Feather, you know that you can’t engage in illegal activity while working for us. That’s the condition of our help.”

“Please, even the presumption is hurtful – that I left any traces behind...”

“But now  _ I know  _ what you did. What’s next? You break into an Embassy?”

“No body, no murder.”

There was one more peculiar thing about her – something Kevin grew fond of over time despite his initial aversion. It was that whenever he met her, he always had to spy for those glittering eyes lurking in the shadow under her hood.

“Kasumi...” He tilted his head giving her a knowing look; but eventually he became curious. “What were you doing there in the first place?”

“There is a dossier you should see.” Kasumi slipped a little piece of paper to him with a series of file IDs on it.

Kevin raised an eyebrow.

“A lot of money and effort was put into silencing the case.”

“And where did you get the lead from? Don’t tell me you just stumbled upon it” 

Kevin reached out to the note and pulled it closer.

“Word in the street.” She pouted.

“Kasumi, I can’t just walk up to the Captain and ask for those files, especially not if it contains heavy implications on corruption within the force! And for the same reason I can’t access it remotely either, because I’d put my money on it anytime that it is rigged to alarm the case officer.” He laid his palms down on the table emphatically “I’ll need a fake reason to want to see those files.”

“You are the Alliance official here Kevin; come up with a suitable lie for it!”

“It doesn’t work like that. And might I remind you: a corruption case is falling far from our interest, which is still the alleged terrorist conspiracy your original info pointed at.”

“They are related!” Kasumi put in feverously. 

“Oh?” Kevin’s brows shot up “And how so?” He leant in closer, scanning her face under the hood “What am I going to find in them? Come on, Kasumi, I need more than that!”

Her eyes glittered in the shade of her hood as she returned the gaze and in an instant reverted to her calm demeanour.

“I don’t know – I’m not an amateur: of course I didn’t open the files on the terminal…”

“...because they could be…”

“…rigged for alarm.” She finished his sentence. “But I know this: one of Jamal Kingsley’s clients has been pouring enormous resources into a radical group. And before you say that has nothing to do with your interest, they have a track record of stealing antimatter from the SSV Geneva, assassinating the party leader of Terra Firma and responsible for the eezo catastrophe over Yandoa!

“Cerberus…” he said.

He hoped he looked well-informed, while feeling extremely lucky that his memory snapped and managed to dig up the shady paramilitary group’s name like that. He had read quite a few articles on the organization back in the time, but he could not recall the name in a single report or analysis that recently passed between his hands.

“Kasumi, these are conspiracy theories. The news and the extranet used to be full of it…”

“You think so?” Kasumi seemed genuinely frustrated. “Then please don’t mind that Kingsley will have a meeting with one of Cerberus’ major arms suppliers in and around  _ Exodus _ ! The tryst takes place after tomorrow, the 14th at 18:00.” 

Kevin shook his head, obviously mulling over what she had just said.

“I will look into it...” he gave her a half-hearted promise. “But the higher we go the harder to convince everyone up the chain in the  _ Company _ . I need to withdraw your bonus until your information is evaluated as accurate again. I hope you understand.”

“Use anybody, trust no one… Ever the Alliance.”

“Old habits are hard to break.” He shrugged giving her a sympathetic, yet discouraging smile.

She fidgeted in her seat slightly and turned her attention to the whirling stream of people in the square.

“Anyways… regardless of the men upstairs, I wanted to thank you for your help...”

She regarded him for a brief moment; her eyes glittered suspiciously.

Kevin’s hands briefly disappeared below the table and rose with a small stylish paper bag.

“Here... a little something.” He pushed the pack closer to her.

Kasumi seemed to ponder a bit, then grabbed the bag and looked into it.

“Wow!” She held up a ragged, printed hardbound book. “H.G. Wells – The War of the Worlds? It must be centuries old!”

“Found it in the basement.” Kevin shrugged nonchalantly, cracking a wide grin seeing Kasumi’s delight.

That was not far from the truth actually. Except that the basement belonged to an antique dealer, and it was the shopkeeper’s sister who had found and eventually put it on sale.

“And I thought I had been put in the doghouse. I’ll have a hard time feeling bad with this.” She smirked.

“Well, at least pretend a bit.” He smiled.

“Thank you.” She said warmly and Kevin knew she meant it.

Kevin happily noted how the little book saved the whole bonus-cut situation and possibly many headaches for him.  _ Who would have thought that some old story about aliens invading Earth would keep anyone excited these days? _

It had not been long before he turned their conversation back to work-talk and instructed Kasumi on the next tasks and steps to take, which – as usually – rather felt like a formality than really expecting the young woman to follow any pre-set plan. 

“Focus on the information. Leave the investigation to me. And be cautious, alright?”

She did not say a word; instead she grinned and took a sip from her fruit juice. 

It became clear to both of them that their meeting had concluded. Kevin, according to the protocol, made sure that there was nothing else on her side to share or ask, and prepared their leave.

“Do you have your exit route?” He asked.

“I have; do you?”

“Please, I am paid for that.” He flashed a confident smile.

“Then you are surely aware of that asari in purple jacket by the fountain watching us since we have started talking.”

He scratched his neck as he stole a glance in the indicated direction.

_ “She may be right.”  _ Tom put in via the comms.

“Thanks... for the timely heads up...” He said, addressing both Thomas’ voice in his ear and Kasumi.

“Well, watch your back! But now, I’m gonna use the bathroom.” She purred as she rose from her seat and winked at the indignant lieutenant from under the hood.

“See you, Kasumi.” He nodded at the lady already striding away. 

Kevin put the little piece of paper before him once again and gave it a long, thoughtful look.

Then with a move he threw it into his glass, stirring it a few times until it fully dissolved in his drink. 

He rubbed his forehead painfully and called out for the receipt.

* * *

**_Police HQ, Milgrom, Bekenstein [Boltzmann System – Serpent Nebula] – 16:10 LT – 2182.11.12 CE_ **

"Ah here come the  _ men in black _ ."

"And we are in fact dealing with aliens – occasionally.”

The two SAIA officers climbed the flight of stairs leading up to the immense main entrance of the Headquarters. The police HQ complex radiated strength and order; its white walls formed angular edges and high, embrasure-like windows with dark and reflective surface treatment reached towards the sky. Cubic columns ran the height of the building, four of them pronouncedly extruding forth in the middle, two of them based at the sides and two in the middle of the stairs. The top of the structure reached into the skies with its numerous flat antenna towers and satellite arrays.

“Follow me please.” The man ushered them into the lobby and handed out the visitors’ passes to them.

They logged in at a security gate and just around the corner they arrived at a huge open office.

“Wait here please, my colleague will be with you in a minute.” 

People were whirling about, phones rang, omni-tools flashed and a mix of uniform officers and plainclothes were going about their business. The people who were staying sat or idled by the reception desk were most likely civilians – Kevin concluded. And there were a few whose flashy arm brace had already told everything about their status in this lively beehive.

Thomas was flipping his pass between his fingers, while Kevin ambled deeper inside the spacey office down the aisle. There was much to take in, but one particular scene did grab his attention, momentarily unfolding at a nearby desk.

“I’m going to ask you the last time...”

A sullen face stared daggers at the officer. The young lad on the other side of the table clearly put up a resistance.

“Okay. So you want to play this way... Do you see that?” The man asked calmly pointing across the room.

The boy followed the clue, his eyes stopping at an aquarium standing on a cupboard. It had clearly seen better times and it was hard to imagine that anything could have stayed alive in the tank. Its glass walls were covered in green moss and the water was stark opaque.

“We kept piranhas in it until they all have been eaten by the  _ khar’shan snapping eel _ .”

“W... what?”

“That’s right. Sign it here.”

“What’s that?” He looked at the proffered datapad.

The form’s header read ‘Declaration of Health’, and a bit lower, there was a box already checked  _ ‘I suffered no physical harm’ _ ; then date and city and a box where his fingerprint ID should seal the document.

“Woah, what is this?”

“Don’t waste my time kid! We are gonna feed the khar’shan anyway; there are always enough idiots each day who need some  _ reassurance _ that they want to talk to us. Until they make up their mind, the khar’shan usually bites off enough skin nip by nip to have its daily calories.”

The suspect stared at the aquarium in horror until the officer snapped his thumb before him.

“Hey! HEY!” He yelled then growled right into his eyes confidentially: “...We call him Billy.”

A few seconds passed; Kevin watched the scene intently.

Suddenly a loud snap sounded as the officer’s hand contacted the desktop hard.

“Who gave those vials to you?!” He bellowed into his face.

The kid flinched, then looked at him defiantly and shook his head.

“To hell with this!” He swiped the datapad off the desk and grabbed the young man’s wrist with an iron grasp. The boy wriggled as he tried to escape but the huge man dragged him towards the aquarium like a ragdoll. “Dinnertime, Billy!”

“Aw, come on. Don’t do it man!” The sorry faces of aghast and pitying colleagues followed the march of the implacable giant and its prey.

Realization just kicked in as the young man put up a final effort to retract from the looming tank of water.

“I’ll talk, I’LL TALK!” he screamed, but the officer dragged him on uncompromisingly “Trevor Urbina! Trevor gave me the beans man! He got it from a four-eye called ‘Big Z’; he’s chillin’ in the Zamoora on Sundays man, that’s all I know man,” he whimpered as his hand stopped mere inches away from the messy pool of water.

The Officer did not look at him; he stood for a brief moment then sighed and caressed the glass. “It’s all right Billy. The next one will be yours, I promise.”

Snickers drifted from several desks as everybody returned to their own business.

“Good day, gentlemen!”

Kevin and Tom turned towards the voice in unison. A man has just stopped behind them, greeting the two SAIA officers with a handshake. 

“Eric MacLeese. Nice to meet you.”

“There was a brief moment I thought he was gonna hurt the guy.”

“Nah, Jeremy’s not like that. He knows and hates it just as much as I do: poor devils lose all their money on this trash that slowly kills them. Their body can tolerate a normal dose for so long, but I’m yet to see an addict who didn’t step it up. Then, if they are lucky they lose their sense of reality before their innards turn jelly.”

“Ouch…” He tried hard not to imagine it as they walked on. “And how big is the thing?”

“What thing?”

“The khar’shan snapping eel.”

“What khar’shan snapping eel?” MacLeese asked innocently, a cocky smile creeping across his face.

Kevin cast a glance back at the filthy aquarium, its water resting in eerie calmness – a suspiciously still calmness.

“Heh!” Realization struck him. “That was a good one...”

They entered an elevator and started their way up.

“Do you visit the city often?”

“This is definitely not my first time.”

“I’ve been here a few times lately.” 

The detective nodded with a knowing smirk, probably noticing the terse answers. “Right…”

Just before an awkward silence could have set in, the elevator came to a stop.

“We are going only this far.” He announced before the doors split apart. “We’re going to need to take the stairs from here. They always promise to have the damned thing repaired for good once and for all, but then we always come to see the elevator guys every four weeks or so… This way.” He gestured while propping a heavy fire-door door ajar.

The men slipped through the crack one by one and continued their ascent in the windowless staircase.

“Massive building. I like the style of Bekenstein; grandiose I’d say.” Kevin said conversationally, appraising the sturdy beams running along the height of the emergency shaft, where the architects had not bothered with applying covering panels.

“Yeah. I won’t say though that you never long for a small farmhouse after a lifetime in a megalopolis. Where are you from?” 

“I don’t think you know the place. It is a small EU town on Earth called Eisenstadt…” Kevin said.

They barely took a few floors until Kevin’s senses felt like twitching.

“Is something burning?” He sniffed into the air anxiously, while climbing around the corner. Only then he saw the emergency door cracked open, daylight and hazy swirls emanating through. 

He craned his neck to peer outside “Are… are those guys smoking there?” Kevin asked in disbelief.

“Sure they’re not having a barbecue!” MacLeese japed as he passed the exit and took a look for himself, too.

A human man and a woman in uniforms had just stubbed the remnants of their cigarettes and pushed inside through the exit.

“Yeah just…is that okay with the fire alarm?” Kevin asked.

“Hey, men have needs, right? I mean I am no smoker, but this zero tolerance trash trickled far too quickly down to us from Earth. We give our dudes a break.” MacLeese gestured at the trespassing officers. “And she counts as a dude, too.” He threw a kiss as the woman rolled her eyes at the comment. “Keep it between you and me though: we set the alarm to trigger just after a few seconds delay, so no problem anymore, everyone is happy; safety not compromised. See?” He motioned at the handle that happened to be in the incoming officer’s hand as he was closing the door.

“Hi Leese!” the man nodded at the little entourage as he edged his way by them on the narrow stairway, and right before he actually shut the door, he had reached for the locking mechanism and with a well-practiced move he unhooked the sensor’s little metal plate.

Kevin’s next question would have been about whether the trespassing personnel were concerned about smoke detectors, but his instinctual peek at the ceiling earned him an explanation as he took note of the creative and cheap solution of the carefully wrapped nylon bag around the sensor apparatus.

“We got a break and entry on Monday.” MacLeese led them down the aisle, cordoned with holographic barriers and warning lights like a proper crime scene. “Would you believe it? People usually try to break out of here – including  _ us _ ; pff, but breaking in? What a crazy dude you have to be?” MacLeese talked away.

“Has anything been stolen?” Kevin asked.

“Nah, that’s why the detectives are still scratching their head,” he pointed at a young officer in pale brown suit that came through as old fashioned right for the first look.

“I bet the case is in good hands.”

“I bet that would be the second thing in Detective Ocitus’ hands right after his own dick, right  _ Octopus _ boy?” He called out to the turian detective, who could not but reply with a pissed wince.

But the jape escaped Kevin entirely as his attention had been drawn to something else. He listened intently to a  _ very familiar rhythm of a staccato beep _ of the door lock panel signalling back to MacLeese when he swiped his omni-tool by the sensor. He had a strange déjà vu, but all of a sudden everything snapped when his eyes wandered over to the huge letters marking the neighbouring room’s entrance ‘SERVER ROOM’.

_ Kasumi, you little... _

“Here we are.” MacLeese ushered them into his office and let the thin door close behind their back.

Kevin quickly found his dropped chin, and took a seat inside, trying his best to pull a normal face.

“We’ve got your RFI regarding Pittman. A detective ran all the checks on him, and even went to the address, but nothing was found there.”

“Give me the long story.”

“Alright. We were trying to get hold of him, but according to the neighbours he had moved to an unknown place a few months ago. No registered address, no known occupation, nothing... Here you have the photos and vids we took on-site, and the reports.” He pushed a datapad before them. “Feel free to copy.”

Tom grabbed the pad and ran through the file. 

“He used to work here. Did you know him?”

“He was a loner; not really my kind of guy to hang with. But to save you time we have already asked the guys he used to work with: he cut all ties when he left. Last thing we know he had aspirations in the private sector in the security field. I’ll give it to him there is more money in that if you put your ass in the right position.”

“Was there anything that could connect him to organized crime or groups of the sort?”

“Let’s see…” MacLeese pondered. “Yeah, almost like all of his cases connected him to criminal groups, considering he was a detective!” He gave out a hearty laugh.

Kevin and Tom shared a disappointed look.

“Sorry guys, without proper warrant there is only so much I can do for you... There is only so much  _ police _ can do for you.” MacLeese said with officially practised compassion.

Kevin saw they were getting nowhere. MacLeese either knew nothing or very much indeed, but Kevin had no idea how he and Tom could bypass the man. It became clear that they had to do their own investigation to find out who Pittman really was, before anyone could remove any traces left.

* * *

They were walking down the street with the ominous building of the Milgrom Police HQ slowly receding behind them by each step they took. Thomas shook his head and broke the silence eventually.

“So we’ve got nothing.”

“I guess so.”

“How are we going to move on from here?”

Kevin abruptly came to a stop.

“What?” Tom turned to him.

He did not reply just yet. He was gazing into space, his eyes twitching minutely as he was organizing his thoughts. His lips slowly curved up. 

“I’ve got an idea...” he said with an elfish smirk.


	9. Fire in the Hole

**Chapter IX.**

#  **Fire in the Hole**

_ Her sight was hazy. Faces all blurred. She was here… so familiar, yet so new. _

“Three klicks to drop off point!”

The engine whine suddenly increased in pitch as the thrusters vectored to break their descent. Its tone has changed just enough to interfere with Pretonus’ order as the turian secured himself by the hatch.

_ Spirits know how long they have been enroute, but it felt like an eternity. _

“What a piss hole.“ Zaalia grumbled, stealing a look through the window.

“A pretty arid one.” Corporal Efrux added before he glanced over the strike team again.

The rest of the turians were giving their equipment the once over.

Zaalia routinely ran her hand down her side. Her fingers tapped on her sidearm, her armour’s clasps and her utility belt pouches.

The door panel on the side of the dropship suddenly popped open. The roar of the engines and the unsettled dust blew into the hold.

“Go, go, go!”

The soldiers jumped to disembark as the ship came to an abrupt halt merely a metre above ground. Zaalia stepped by the opening, then leaped off the ledge. Her booted toes sank into loose, rusty red sand. 

She dashed out immediately to contain her sector, straining her eyes to see through the dust. Her feet klacked in quick succession as she made her way to take cover behind a boulder jutting out from the ground on the edge of the gaping ravine. She halted at the sight.

The eerie howling of the canyon winds were thrumming on her chest and resonated through her bones.

Beyond the thick clouds of dust she could finally take out the ghostly figures of the balancing rock formations against the lurid horizon of Namakli...

* * *

**_Milgrom, Bekenstein [Boltzmann System – Serpent Nebula] – 18:15 UTC – 2182.11.12 CE_ **

“The boss is so gonna kill us.” 

“Only if he knows!” Kevin japed.

Thomas was trying to keep up with Kevin, who was doggedly pacing back towards the police HQ. 

“And what did you tell the girl – what’s her name – ... Yvette?”

“Well, I hinted at the huge number of latent sympathisers in the force, and then suggested that tipping the odds in  _ our revolutionary favour _ would probably overbear any resistance from the authority and eventually result in the glorious victory of The Cause. And that even Chief Harris is allegedly a great fan of the “Love is Not a Crime Movement” at his heart.”

Thomas raised an eyebrow. “Did she buy it?” He asked in amazement.

“I worried I may have gone too far, but... she did not even bat an eye.”

“So she agreed to do it?”

“One way to find out!” Kevin replied and momentarily stopped by an unoccupied terrace table of a café.

He snitched a leftover paper spoon and spun on his heel to face Thomas.

“Here!” He swayed the item before his eyes.

Thomas took the proffered utensil and frowned at it for a long second, but Kevin was already on his way. Tom shoved the piece into his pocket and trotted after him.

“Hey! Why did you give this to me?!”

* * *

**_Police HQ, Milgrom, Bekenstein [Boltzmann System – Serpent Nebula] – 18:25 UTC – 2182.11.12 CE_ **

MacLeese looked at them, his eyebrows arching high. He spread his arms wide interrogatively.

“Ah, Eric! Nice to see you again! We forgot about a little something!” Kevin said with a broad grin, patting the officer’s forearm as if greeting an old friend.

“Oh really?” 

The detective returned the touch with a forced smile.

“ _ Good thing _ you were able to come through the blockade”, he added and reluctantly motioned them to follow him in. 

As happy as he had been that this small episode with the spies had gone smoothly, now a meddlesome, tingling tension spreading all over the back of his neck reminded him how much he had not been missing them.

“And what exactly has just come to your mind?” He asked, flexing his neck slowly with a painful expression.

“We were thinking…” Kevin started as he nonchalantly adjusted his little backpack. “...and came to the conclusion that we really shouldn’t leave until every aspect of this case is covered, right? I mean we travelled twenty thousand light-years to see you! Right?” Kevin laughed “We better make the most out of it!”

“I cannot disagree...”

The group was once again climbing the backstairs zealously. When they were about to turn onto the corridor with MacLeese’ office, Thomas’ omni-tool sprung to life around his wrist, playing a ringtone for an incoming call. He stopped in his tracks as he raised his arm to check the caller.

“Excuse me, but this is important. Do you mind if I join you later?” Thomas asked.

“Fine by me.” MacLeese shrugged clearly indicating that he would not miss him. 

Kevin also gave him a nod of approval. Tom did not need any more encouragement to step off.

Lieutenant Blauhorn had made himself comfortable in his now usual seat and waited until MacLeese plopped down on his chair across the table.

“Please take a look at this.” Kevin said, pulling a datapad out of his bag, handing it to MacLeese. “Mind you, this is  _ classified  _ information.” He said, giving an apprehensive glance behind his back as if checking for unwanted attention.

MacLeese took the device reluctantly and started reading. 

“I assume you saw our original information request…” Kevin said, and took MacLeese’ somewhat reproachful look as a positive ‘yes’. "Yeah… We were a little laconic on the causes of our interest indeed - a bad habit of our Company.” Kevin waved away the excuse lightly, “but let’s talk turkey.”

MacLeese paused to regard the officer.

“Of course, you understand we  _ cannot  _ show you these details…” Kevin said, watching MacLeese’ eyes jumping from line to line avidly, “but we thought that you may be more willing to discuss this case, when we are standing on level ground. We are fighting on the same side after all…”

MacLeese grunted in sort of an acknowledgement, and dived back into the document. ID photos and older pictures about Pitman lined the report on the former detective. A couple of communication footprint charts and spreadsheets of banking transactions added to the pile of intelligence topping it with a neatly written conclusion — one that Kevin was particularly proud of.

“Pittman came up as a tertiary subject of interest, as a middleman, in a money laundering operation. Now, that would fall outside our typical field of interest, but the ‘laundry’ belongs to a man well-acquainted with the top level Bekenstein business sphere who is — let’s say —  _ strongly  _ suspected of spying for foreing powers — and that is where it all gets political and where we will not share more on this, alright?

“Yeah... we have not heard about any of that and have nothing to do about it.” The detective muttered, frowning at the new development.

“As it should be… So,” Kevin said as he adjusted his shirt-sleeves” Pittman’s name arose as a figure in kind of a security role and he seems like quite a regular occurrence at meetings where we would appreciate having an ear and eye. That is, if he is reliable. To establish that, we need to have him under control, but for that we must have a hold of him. We had surmised he might still be speaking with the authorities, but had not seen any direct evidence until recently, when his history with the police has been revealed. 

“If I understand you correctly, Kevin, that you  _ know  _ he is talking to someone here, “MacLeese spread his arms out while speaking”, why did you come to me and not to  _ that  _ person instead?”

“Because we do not know who he talks with.”

Eric cracked a smile.

“And…” Kevin raised his eyebrow, while slowly opened his mouth to continue” ...we do not even care. What we care about is Pittman. If we can get to him, we are good… we take him under control, whether we recruit him or not. But if we cannot get to him first, his unidentified connection to the police will be a liability that we must cut off, just like his moles from inside the force… and that will take us a lot of uncomfortable screening of the personnel here, but... loose ends must be tied up sooner than later.”

MacLeese looked up from the glowing screen. Their eyes met and the two men had scrutinized each other for a brief moment before the detective returned his attention to the datapad. 

Kevin was scanning the man’s face from his chair as he was running through the file, and found it changing from the initial neutral to intrigued, then acknowledging and finally genuinely surprised. But what intrigued him the most was the fleeting sign of concern before any of those…

* * *

Tom had edged away from the office and distanced himself from the busy part of the corridor. He meandered to an adjacent aisle to answer the fake call.

Not wasting time, he sneaked through the door to the stairway, keeping on a seemingly important conversation with an imaginary nobody. He descended a few floors and passed a few detectives and uniform officers on the way, nodding briefly or just ignoring them - whatever seemed the most neutral course of action to slip by drawing the least attention.

He soon passed the level from where the elevator operated to the ground floor and fortunately for him, traffic on the stairs dropped to zero just as he had hoped. 

As he progressed further down, the clacking of his shoes slowly grew over the fainting chatter upstairs and finally became his sole companion. Alongside which his thoughts and racing heart started to feel almost too loud. Now he regretted that he had not begun his preparation for the yearly fitness tests earlier as the serpent of stairs became more and more of a labour to climb, even downstairs! 

He stopped eventually, hunching over while propping himself on his knees.

The sign on the wall read  _ ‘Level 1’  _ finally, and Thomas, still heaving, turned his attention to the door under the glowing green exit sign.

It took a few moments to overcome his body’s stubborn desire to recuperate, but eventually he squared his shoulders and stepped to the door. He gave a quick check for any security cameras, but similarly to the rest of the staircase, he found none. Thomas took a deep breath, reached with one hand into his pocket and another on the handle. Then with a quick move he swung the massive fire-door open.

“Wait!” He raised a warning hand immediately into Yvette’s face. The woman was standing there, right outside the doorstep, tense and ready to push right through. But now she halted as Tom gave a glance over her shoulder.

The back door opened to a shadowy alley, where the sight of a small and impatient crowd of colourful people greeted him: humans and a few asari with banners, boards and flags, whom Yvette managed to keep surprisingly disciplined and quiet for their numbers. 

With a swift move, Thomas pulled his hand from his pocket and chocked the lock’s metal plate with the now very practically bent neck of the paper coffee spoon, fitting snugly into the lock, keeping the mechanism in place from triggering the alarm.

He could not suppress a smirk.

* * *

**_Police HQ, Milgrom, Bekenstein [Boltzmann System – Serpent Nebula] – 18:45 UTC – 2182.11.12 CE_ **

Thomas found nobody in the corridor, but voices sifted through the doorway not far ahead to his left. He pulled up beside the door of what looked like a waiting room with benches lining the walls and a few coffee tables before them. Plain clothes and uniform members of the force were relaxing and chatting away, all of them humans except for a turian, and from the looks of it there were no civilians present at the moment. His suspicion was confirmed by the unfolding scene in an adjacent room across the lounge, which grabbed not only his attention. The bystanding officers craned their heads as they edged closer to get a better look.

“We were patrolling downtown when he took a potshot at the patrol car; the slug passed Amireh by mere centimetres!” The Uniform Officer fumed.

To spitting distance from him was sat a chunky man secured tightly to his seat with a pair of handcuffs, who was glaring back at him with a sullen face, which – just like his torn shirt – had probably seen better times.

“Was he like this when you brought him in?” Another human in a once-white lab coat asked.

The officer seemed to hesitate a bit. Then he nodded. “Yes, Doc.”

The man chained to the seat cried out.

“They beat me up, doctor!” The man cuffed to the bench raised his head and turned it around slowly, showcasing an assortment of bruises, a black eye and a swollen lip. “You gotta do something!” He whimpered, which made him look even more miserable, given his considerable size.

“Hmm...” The doctor muttered. “Do you guys keep him in for a few days... till these heal up?” He gestured at the lesions.

“Of course.” The officer replied.

“I see.” The doctor regarded the detainee for a long moment impassively. “No visible injuries.” He uttered his professional resolution as he scribbled down a note on his datapad and then signed it.

“WHAT?! Come here, I’ll cut your throat too, you piece of sh...” he hurtled forth, but a detective leaped by the door and with a smooth move she shut it right before the restraining officer’s knee could have had a more direct relationship with the raging giant’s stomach.

Suddenly there was silence.

“Khm. Excuse me…”

All eyes in the waiting room now darted at Thomas immediately.

“I... believe I’ve seen protesters inside the building... I thought I would let you know.”

“That’s fine, we brought in some troublemakers earlier.”

“Well, I did not catch the bracelet on their hands... Probably the same policy why you let them keep their sticks and firecrackers and whatnot?”

The moment of disbelief fled in an instance when the muffled scants from the back-stairs hit their ears and they noticed the slowly whirling traces of purple smoke from the same direction. The officers dashed out of the room as one, smashing the alarm on the way. Sirens broke out blaring throughout the building.

* * *

MacLeese winced at the sudden clamour.

“What the hell?” The detective stood and stepped outside the door. “What’s going on?!”

“They got in!” Another officer yelled as he ran down the aisle.

It did not take any longer for the excitement to stick over to MacLeese, too.

“You stay here.” He ordered.

“Are you sure we shouldn’t move out? To... some safe place?” He asked, letting some worry slip into his voice.

“You’ll be alright.” MacLeese gave him a condescending smile and exited the room with haste.

Kevin turned after him, watching through the glass. One of his colleagues grabbed MacLeese on the shoulder, then both men ran down the corridor.

Kevin rose from his seat a little, then sidled by the office’s glass wall. People seemed to be preoccupied with the alarm, so with newfound confidence he reached for the control panel’s holographic controls. He quickly set the office to lock-down mode. The huge transparent window turned opaque in a second with a red circular icon floating over the doorknob. Kevin scurried to the table. 

A few hours ago - during their first meeting - when MacLeese had accessed his computer with his finger ID, Kevin envied the ease of access and lack of typing passwords. Now he was outright thankful for Milgrom Police taking the comfortable route with their security. 

_ Not that they were particularly wrong though... _

He grabbed the datapad that MacLeese had thrown on the table. He held it carefully by its edge, and started to scratch at its corner. It did not need much until a clear plastic sheet began to peel off. Kevin pulled the membrane away and gently, albeit with hands shaking from the rush of adrenaline, he laid it on the desk.

_ … after all this tech was not something a common dude had access to. Finger IDs were deemed considerably safe and widely in use even at the Citadel police force dubbed C-Sec, to match the old-school fingerprint recognition methods with in situ DNA sampling. _

He brought up his omni-tool. The proper application had been already loaded and connected readily on his command to the smartsheet.

_ DOWNLOADING DATA… <COMPLETE> _

_ COMPILING FINGERPRINT SHEET…. <COMPLETE> _

_ CONSTRUCTING BIOMETRIC PROFILE…...……..….. <COMPLETE> _

Kevin rather avoided situations like this. While all these spy gadgets piqued his curiosity, and he was more than willing to partake in the trainings on how to use them, his excitement and interest was more about the technical side of it - without the unnecessary excitement: the sweating, the racing heart and the potential chance of getting caught or worse - more likely worse. If MacLeese had been suddenly back, he was not sure he could talk himself out of this…

Kevin tapped on a few haptic buttons on his omni-tool, and one loading bar later the imprint of a palm materialized in the middle of the smartsheet. Kevin inspected the three dimensional mimicked ridges of MacLeese’ finger and palm print, then cagily wrapped the sheet around his own hand.

MacLeese’ desk terminal was switched on, standing by. Kevin lowered himself onto the detective’s seat and pulled himself closer to the keyboard. He woke up the computer and stared at the login screen. 

_ Please work. _

He pressed his palm against the sensor screen with bated breath. The haptic board suddenly came alive below his palm, letting him feel the keyboard keys emerge from the holographic plane lying on the table in front of the terminal’s display. He was in.

Kevin did not waste a second. His fingers were racing over the glimmering blue interface, his eyes sternly fixed on the screen. To his luck he was familiar with the software the police used for organizing their documents — perks of governmental savings across agencies. He swiftly navigated to the list of cases, narrowing down the items in line with Kasumi’s tip-off.

He found it at last.

_ MacLeese, you damn dog…  _ he shook his head.

A smile touched the corner of his mouth. The detective did not only have access to the case, but it had been assigned to him in the past, not much before he closed it eventually.

_ Oh and just who do we have here...? _

He gasped as an ear-piercing blast shook the office.

* * *

The thin office walls were still vibrating violently all around as the smoke dissipated. 

“GET ON THE GROUND!” The officer to Tom’s left shouted the order, as he was still hugging his ears for dear life.

The reply came across the corridor in the form of an indistinguishable mix of angry hollers and flying office furniture parts. 

The pungent smell of pyrotechnics and the not less palpable aggression in the air were good giveaways for Thomas that he was at the wrong location at the wrong time. But after having been running around for a while, he found it increasingly difficult to find a good place to be inside the building anyway, now flooded with protesters at random floors wherever they had come through from the invaded stairway.

However, in Thomas’ view more worrying was their closeness to MacLeese’ office. 

_ Come on Kev, come on... Get it done already!  _ He gave his omni-wristwatch an impatient glimpse to no avail. Tom had pulled out to an adjacent aisle for cover, and to catch his breath a little. He almost choked on it though when a huge asari with her human companion trotted out of a room before him. Their libertine attire pretty much immediately gave away their side, just like Thomas’ suit and tie did his. The asari -  _ man, a seriously tall and buff asari _ \- and the lady measured him up from head to toe. 

“Well, well, well.” The asari bit her lip.

In normal circumstances he would have deemed this a pleasantly exciting situation, but now he felt like his very official looking visitor badge cast him on the bad side, telling from the two trespassers’ fierce grin.

“Come ’ere lil boy, wanna have some fun?”

Thomas felt something inherently unsettling about receiving such an offer from an extraterrestrial, who was also clearly hard to resist physically in case things would get physical, so fending off the sudden dumbfoundedness, he excused himself promptly:

“Thanks ladies, but I’ll pass!”

He barely finished his objection, but was already halfway through an adjacent doorway — with his unbuttoned suit flapping after him, followed by his suitors in pursuit.

Fun or not, he was reluctant to find out and on the contrary, determined to lose them. He was pelting through the place, flipping a few chairs in his way as makeshift barricades, not even looking back to check their effectiveness. 

_ Nowhere’s the police when you need them!  _ His chest was throbbing.

He shouldered the door across the room in the hopes to seal himself off from them at last, which he thought would have been a great service to his lungs. 

He smashed the lock and stepped back to glance at the red holo-disk and cross, which appeared over the door as a sign of salvation. He spun around with a lighter heart just to have it sink to his feet as his face abruptly contacted a hairy chest with a blunt thud.

“Excuse m…!” Tom coughed the words, taken aback by the sweaty reek, but that was the minor issue.

Ten thick fingers shot around his neck into a firm grip, his body pushed back against the door.

Thomas’ mind and heart were racing once again. His options at reasoning with the beast of a man about how bad of an idea this was had quickly converged to nil. His eyeballs strained to get a better look at his assailant, which was no easy feat with his neck forced upwards. The ugly face was terrifyingly familiar. _This was the guy taken in by the patrol officers earlier!_ _Also the one who had fired a gun at them_ — Thomas made the alarming sidenote —, now standing free, with part of the broken chair still hanging on the fuzzy arms.

He clamped onto the thick wrists with all his might to pry them off, but his fingers kept slipping off as even the shut door behind him seemed to hit him on the back.

_ “OPeN uP! Don’t run away boooy!” _ Came the muffled voices from his pursuers from beyond the shaking door.  _ “Come on Ari, push it with your blue magic!” _

_ “Yeah babe, why not?... Here it comes! Threeeeee...” _ sifted through the asari’s voice.

Thomas’ eyes widened in panic. All his heard and read knowledge about asari “magic” came to the surface in a snap. His wriggles grew desperate at the thought of standing in the way of a  _ biotic attack _ . Yet, with a single and firm move, the man shook off his vile attempts and pushed him against the door again with such vigour that left him breathless.

“Let me borrow your little key to my freedom…” He said reaching for his badge when he halted halfway, eyeing the huge “VISITOR” text across it. His moment of doubt earned Thomas another chance and a sudden idea as his flailing hand found grip on the bracelet on the detainee’s thigh-thick forearm.

_ “Twoooooo.” _

Tom jerked the handcuffs back above the man’s wrists and twisted it with all the force he had. The move tore the metal deep into his flesh and tendon sheath, right against the bones.

A painful roar escaped the giant’s throat as the sudden shock travelled up his arms, numbing them in an instant.

Thomas gasped for air as he finally freed his neck and smashed the lock button open as he jumped to the side. His manoeuvre did not hold the goliath back for long. Angrier than ever, his hand shot out after him.

Tom narrowly pulled his suit out of reach as a loud crack slapped the door right into the man’s face. 

“Oneee!... Oh, who the fuck is this?”

“AAAARGH!”

Thomas could still catch the sounds of not quite a new friendship unfolding behind him, but he wanted to be no witness to it. 

When feeling reassuringly distanced from the whole ordeal, he finally stopped and shoved his back against a wall to recuperate a little and not less importantly, to think… Struck by a sudden idea, he turned to the evacuation plan on the wall. Not that he was on the way out. He tapped his finger on the schematic drawing, right on a small backstair quite possibly out of the way of harm.

The SAIA officer raced down the floor and pushed in the red marked emergency door. With all the alarms already blaring, nobody could care less. He took the stairs by two and nearly knocked over a young detective.

“Hey, hey, hey. Hold on!” The man ordered giving emphasis to his words by hooking an arm around a fast moving Thomas’ chest. He raised his hands in defeat as he backed up to face the officer. The detective eyed him up fast and reached out to his badge for closer inspection.

Seemingly satisfied, he pointed up towards the door Tom was heading to.

“That level is secured. Stay there and wait for further instructions. It’s gonna take a few more minutes, the situation’s under control.”

“Aye aye, and thank you…” Tom uttered, readjusting his suit and badge lanyard, walking on while keeping track of the quickly leaving man from the corner of his eye. 

Once far enough, he trotted up the remaining flight of stairs and swung the heavy door open to the floor of MacLeese’ office. He fixated on the glassy room, all turned opaque as if filled with smoke.

He entered with the dash of a whirlwind.

“Kevin, we need to g… oh.”

“What a timely arrival, Mr Smith.” MacLeese greeted him.

Thomas’ omni-tool also lit up. Before he could have got a good look at it, Kevin hung up and turned to him on his seat interrogatively:

“Where have you been? This was the third time I have been calling you!”

“Erm.”

Thomas’ eyes flitted from the detective to Kevin, and then back at him again. Both men were staring at him, visibly impatient to hear Tom explain himself, MacLeese standing in front of him, leaning back against his desk and Kevin sitting in his seat just like how he had left him. Which… were good news - presumably.

“Er… yeah, I’m sorry.” He squirmed a bit. “Have you seen what’s been going on out there? I couldn’t really find a good spot to chat... Have you been waiting for long?” Thomas asked in an attempt to get back in the loop.

“Nah. We had a little interruption, but it’s all under control now,” answered MacLeese. “We have just wrapped it up with Kevin.”

“Ah.” Thomas uttered and looked at Kevin.

“Yah, we both gained a better understanding of our common and individual professional interests, so to speak.” Kevin said in a mannered tone. Since Thomas’ expression did not change the least, Kevin promptly added further explanation: “In short, we are good.” He nodded to underline his words.

That seemed to suffice as Smith’ features softened and his posture also eased up for the first time since he had rushed into the room.

“Good. Well then, shall we?” MacLeese asked as he pushed himself away from his desk and motioned at the door. 

He ushered the SAIA officers out to the corridor, where they could grab a coffee from the vending machine there, while waiting for the all-clear. And it happened exactly as the young detective had foretold Thomas, as within a few minutes MacLeese’ omni-tool indeed sprung to life with the message broadcast about all criminal elements having been contained in the building. 

“Copy.” Eric acknowledged, and saw the intelligence officers down to the main lobby. 

Kevin felt a mix of guilt and excitement at the aftermath of the chaos, the latter of which he tried his darnest to hide. Some of the aisles, which were adjacent to the sairway looked like a scene after a mad Saturday house party. Dirt and stains on the walls, burnt spots on the plush floor marked the places of standoffs. Kevin stole glimpses of armoured riot police leading cuffed protesters downstairs via the back corridors.

MacLeese nodded at them as he noticed where Kevin was looking. “Damn bastards got to the roof to hang out some kind of a banner. If it wasn’t for the cameras I’d have smacked up some of the wiseass loud ones.” 

“Oh.”

“Do you stay alive Brad?” The detective patted an armoured officer on the way, washing some blood off his face. It seemed like he bit his mouth in the turmoil.

“Yeah dude. Tis but a scratch!” He laughed it off.

MacLeese showed a half grin as he waved and walked on without a stop, leading Thomas and Kevin to the main stairway in a hurry, where he stopped to wait for them.

“This way, guys… Hey, did you get hurt?” He pointed at his own nose.

“Who, me?” Kevin said, but he figured out immediately what the detective was frowning at. He raised a hand to his nose and eyed the red smear of blood on his finger with the same concern, which Tom was looking at him now as well.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, never mind… And I thought I merely had a runny nose from my teargas-fever or something…”

“Do you need medical assistance?” MacLeese asked more out of politeness than a serious offer.

“I’ll live. Really,” Kevin replied in a nasal voice, doing his best creasing a napkin against his nostrils, when they reached the lobby area, which seemed like it had avoided the incident completely.

“Alright then. Take care when you leave the building. Those mobs are lurking around in the nearby alleys.”

“Thanks, detective.”

“We’ll keep in touch.”

“I’m sure we will.” Eric stared at them with an ever so slight smile on his face.

Thomas shook hands with MacLeese. Kevin quickly took the napkin over with his left to prep for the farewell, but an awkward moment of their hesitation over whether it would be appropriate to exchange any possible traces of blood pretty much killed the vibe and the two men opted for a simple nod instead.

As the door closed behind them, Kevin felt a huge weight drop off of his chest and took a relaxing draft of fresh air in the waking evening breeze. A false sense of security, but one that felt good enough to re-energize his effort. They paced down the stairs in a hurry, weaving through the loose cordon of riot and uniform police, which had just cleared the courtyard in front of the building. The two men were soon out of sight in the alleys, while the sun was slowly dressing Milgrom’s white walls in flames of orange.

* * *

MacLeese plopped onto his armchair. The last sun rays of the Boltzmann star cast long shadows and bathed the office in warm, fiery colours. He was not sure if it was the teargas or the fireworks that irritated his throat more. He gave a try to cough the unpleasant feeling away and reached down for a bottle of water he kept by his desk’s leg.

Albeit his thirst and the pressing need to wash down the ache in his larynx had not faded the least, he abruptly stopped in his move as his eyes - now in level with his tabletop - struggled to focus on something.

At the usual place of the holo-keyboard for his computer terminal, against the dark matte surface, little reflective droplets mirrored the ceiling lights, standing out clearly now that he was looking at them at an angle. It still would not have warranted much of his attention, but the little pearls were playing in a curious ruby colour… A growing sense of unease enveloped the back of his skull. He poked one of the small puddles and held his finger up while drawing his chair closer. His face looked pale and straight as if carved from stone. The need to massage a familiar tension out of his neck just came back even stronger as he scrutinized the red smear on his fingertip.


End file.
